ï~~


ï~~


ï~~


ï~~k i~

THlE LAST OF THE SPIRITS.




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.
CHARLES DICKENS.
(BOZ.)

WITH BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS.
FROM DESIGNS BY J. LEECH AND D. MACLISE, R A.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
Pbilclbelpbia:
T. B. PETERSON, NO. 306 CHESTNUT STREETO
GIRARD BUILDINGS, ABOVE THIRD




ï~~


ï~~PREFACE.
I HuAv included my little Christmas Books in this
edition, complying with a desire that has been repeatedly
expressed to me, and hoping that they may prove generally acceptable in so accessible a form.
The narrow space within which it was necessary to confine these Christmas Stories when they were originally
published, rendered their construction a matter of some
difficulty, and almost necessitated what is peculiar in their
machinery. I never attempted great elaboration of detail
in the working out of character within such limits, believing that it could not succeed. My purpose was, in a
whimsical kind of masque, which the good humor of the
season justified, to awaken some loving and forbearing
thoughts, never out of season in a Christian land. I
have the happiness of believing that I did not wholly
miss it.
LOxDoN, September, 186Y.




ï~~


ï~~CONTENTS.
I.
A CHRISTMAS CAROL:
II.
THE CHIMES.
III.
THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.
IV.
THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
V.
THE HAUNTED MAN AND GHOST'S BARGAIN.
VI.
THE WRECK OF THE GOLDEN MARY.
VII.
THE SEVEN POOR TRAVELERS.
VIII.
NINE NEW STORIES BY THE CHRISTMAS FIR$.




ï~~LIST OF ILLUASTRATIONS.
TO YACI liON
MARLEY'S GHOST............................................38
MR. FEZZIWIGIS CHRISTMAS BALL...............................58
SCROOGE'S THIRD VISITOR.....................................67
THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS....................................oooo105
TROTTY VECK AND MRS. CHICKENSTALKER LEADING THE DANCE.. 211
CALEB PLUMMER AND HIS BLIND DAUGHTER....................247
MARION'S BIRTHDAY FETE.....................................319
MR. REDLAW AND THE PHANTO............................ 426
WATTS'S8 CHARITY..........................................609
OLD CHEESEMAN AND JANE IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM...............710




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL
is PSE8.
RRWa




ï~~


ï~~A    CHRISTMAS              CAROL.
STAVE I.
Marley's Ghost.
MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever
about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergy.
man, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge
signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for any.
thing he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a
door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge,
what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have
been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece
of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is
in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or
the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat,
emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it
be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know
how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole admin.
istrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend,
and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up
by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on
25




ï~~26

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted
bargain.
The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I
started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This
must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of
the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there
would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night,
in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be
in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark
in a breezy spot-say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instanceliterally to astonish his son's weak mind.
Scrooge never painted out old Marley's name. There it stood,
years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley.
The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people
new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.
Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge!
squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous
old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had
ever struck out generous fire; secret and self-contained, and
solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features,
nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait;.,ade his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in
his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his
eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low tempera.
ture always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days;
and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No
warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind
that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more initent
upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul
weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

27

snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him
in only one respect. They often "came down " handsomely
and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome
looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? when will you come to
see me?"  No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no chil.
dran asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once
in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of
Scrooge. Even the blindmen's dogs appeared to know him; and
when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though
they said, "no eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked.
To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all hu.
mt.n sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones
ca'l "nuts " to Scrooge.
Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christ.
mas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was
codd, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the
p.ople in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating
their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the
ptvement-stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just
gone three, but it was quite dark already: it had not been light
all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the neigh.
boring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air.
The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was
so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest,
the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy
cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have
thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large
scale.
The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might
keep his eye upon his clerk who in a dismal little cell beyond




ï~~28

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small
fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller, that it looked
like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the
coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in
with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary
for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort,
not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed.
"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheer.
ful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon
him so quickly, that this was the first intimation he had of his ap.
proach.
"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"
He had so heated himself with the rapid walking in the fog
and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow;
his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his
breath smoked again.
"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You
don't mean that, I'm sure."
"I do," said Scrooge. " Merry Christmas! what right have
you to be merry? what reason have you to be merry'? You're
poor enough."
"Come then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have
you to be dismal? what reason have you to be morose? You're
rich enough."
Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the mo.
ment, said " Bah!" again; and followed it up with " Humbug."
"Don't be cross, uncle," said the nephew.
"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in
such a world of fools as this?    Merry Christmas!   Out
upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but
a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding
yourself a year older, and not an hour richer; a time faor




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

29

balancing your books, and having every item in 'em through
a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I
could work my will," said Scrooge indignantly, "every idiot
who goes about with ' Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be
boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly
through his heart. He should!"
"Uncle!" repeated the nephew.
"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, " keep Christmas in
your own way, and let me keep it in mine."
"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it!"
"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good
may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"
" There are many things from which I might have derived
good, by which I have not profited, I dare say," returned the
nephew: "Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have
always thought of Christmas time, when it has come roundapart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if
anything belonging to it can be apart from that-as a good time:
a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know
of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem
by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think
of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to
the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other jour.
neys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of
gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good,
and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"
The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and ex.
tinguished the last frail spark for ever.
" Let me hear another sound from you," said Scrooge, " and
you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situ ation. You're
quite a powerful speaker, sir," he added, turning to his nephew
"I wonder you don't go into Parliament."




ï~~80

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to-morrow."
Scrooge said that he would see him--yes, indeed, he did. He
went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would
see him in that extremity first.
"But why?" cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?"
" Why did you get married?" said Scrooge.
"Because I fell in love."
"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as if that were
the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry
Christmas. "Good afternoon."
"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that hap.
pened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?"
"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why can.
not we be friends?"
" Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
" I am sorry with all my heart to find you so resolute. We
have never had a quarrel to which I have been a party. But I
have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my
Christmas humor to the last. So A Merry Christmas, uncle!"
"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
" And A Happy New Year!"
"'Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwith.
standing. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings
of the season on the clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than
Scrooge; for he returned them cordially.
"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge, who overheard
him: "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a-week, and a wife and
family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam.'
This lunatic, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, had let two
other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to be.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

81

hold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They
had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.
"Scrooge and Marley's, I believe," said one of the gentlemen,
referring to his list. " Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr.
Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?"
" Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge re
plied. "He died seven years ago this very night."
"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his
surviving partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.
It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At
the ominous word " liberality," Scrooge frowned, and shook his
head, and handed the credentials back.
"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the
gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirabl
that we should make some slight provision for the poor and desti
tute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands
are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are
in want of common comforts, sir."
"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.
"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the pen
again.
"And the Union workhouses!" demanded Scrooge.     "Are
they still in operation?"
"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, " I wish I could
say they were not."
" The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigor, then!"
said Scrooge.
"Both very busy, sir."
"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something
nad occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge.
SI'm very glad to hear it."
"Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian




ï~~82

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

sheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman,
"'a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the Poor
some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this
time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt,
and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for 'I"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
"You wish to be anonymous!"
"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. " Since you ask me
what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry
myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry.
I help to support the establishments I have mentioned: they cost
enough: and those who are badly off must go there."
"Many can't go there; and many would rather die."
"If they would rather die," said Scrooge, " they had better do
it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides-excuse meI don't know that."
"But you might know it," observed the gentleman.
"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for
a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with
other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon,
gentlemen!"
Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point,
the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labors with an
improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than
was usual with him.
Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that people ran
about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before
horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peep.
mng slily down at Scrooge out of a Gothic window in the wall,
became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds,
with tremulous vibrations afterwards, as if its teeth were chat.
ering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

88

In the main street, at the corner of the court, some laborers were
repairing the gas-pipes and had lighted a great fire in a brazier,
round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered:
warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in
rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowings
sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops, where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the
lamp-heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed.
Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke: a glorious
pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such
dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. The
Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansiou Huise,
gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a
Lord Mayor's household should; and even the little tailor, whom
he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being
drunk and blood-thirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out
to buy the beef.
Foggier yet and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If
the good Saint Dunstan had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose
with a touch of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar
weapons, then indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose.
The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by
the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at
Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol: but at
the first sound of' God bless you, merry gentleman.
May nothing you dismay!"
Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the
singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more
congenial frost.
At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived
2




ï~~84

CIIRISTMAS  STORIES.

With an ill-will Scrooge dism ounted from his stool, and tacitly
admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly
snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.
"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge.
"If quite convenient, sir."
"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, " and it's not fair. If I
was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll
be bound?"
The clerk smiled faintly.
"And yet," said Scrooge, " you don't think me ill-used, when
I pay a day's wages for no work."
The clerk observed that it was only once a year.
"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth
of December!" said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat to the chin.
"But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the
earlier next morning!"
The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out
with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the
clerk, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below
his waist (for he boasted no great-coat), went down a slide on
Cornhill, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times in honor of
its being Christmas-eve, and then ran home to Camden Town as
hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's-buff.
Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy
tavern; and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the
rest of the evening with his banker's-book, went home to bed.
He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased
partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile
of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one
could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was
a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and
have forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and
dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other rooms




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

85

being all let out as offices. The yard was so oarx tnat even
Scrooge, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his
hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway
of the house, that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat
in mournful meditation on the threshold.
Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about
the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also
a fact, that Scrooge had seen it night and morning during his whole
residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what
is called fancy about him as any man in the City of London,
even including-which is a bold word-the corporation, aldermen,
and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not
bestowed one thought on Marley, since his last mention of his
seven-years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man
explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having
his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its
undergoing any intermediate process of change: not a knocker,
but Marley's face.
Marley's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other
objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a
bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but
Looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles
turned up upon its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously
stirred, as if by breath or hot-air; and though the eyes were
wide open. they were perfectly motionless. That and its livid
color made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of
the face and beyond its control, rather than a part of its own expression.
As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker
again.
To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not con.
scious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from
infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he




ï~~86

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his
candle.
He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the
door; and he did look cautiously behind at first, as if he half-ex.
pected to be terrified with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking
out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door,
except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on; so he said,
"Pooh, pooh!" and closed it with a bang.
The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every
room above, and every cask in the wine merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own.
Scrooge was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened
the door, and walked across the hall and up the stairs: slowly too:
trimming his candle as he went.
You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-six up a
good old flight of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parliament; but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that
staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards
the wall, and the door towards the balustrades: and done it easy.
There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare, which is
perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive
hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen gas.
lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well.
so you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.
Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that: darkness is
cheap, and Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door,
he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. He had
just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that.
Sitting-room, bed-room, lumber-room. All as they should be.
Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in
the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel
(Scrooge had a cold in his head) upon the hob. Nobody under
the bed: nobody in the closet; nobody in his dressing.gown,




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

87

which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the wall.
Lumber-room as usual.   Old fire-guard, old shoes, two fish.
baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.
Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in; doublelocked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against
surprise, he took off his cravat, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and his night-cap, and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.
It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night.
He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could
extract the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel.
The fire-place was an old one, built by some Dutch merchant
long ago, and paved all round with quaint Dutch tiles, designed
to illustrate the Scriptures. There were Cains and Abels; Pha.
raoh's daughters, Queens of Sheba, Angelic messengers descend.
ing through the air on clouds like feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in butter-boats, hundreds of
figures to attract his thoughts; and yet that face of Marley,
seven years dead, came like the ancient Prophet's rod, and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at
first, with power to shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy
of old Marley's head on every one.
"Humbug!" said Scrooge, and walked across the room.
After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head
back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a dis.
used bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some
purpose now fbrgotten with a chamber in the highest story of the
building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange,
inexplicable dread, that as he looked he saw this bell begin to
swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a
sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in
fhe house.
This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed




ï~~88

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

an hour  The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They
were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below, as if some
person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine.
merchant's cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that
ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.
The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then hE
heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming
up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.
" It's humbug still!" said Scrooge. "I won't believe it."
His color changed though, when, without a pause, it came on
through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes.
Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried,
"I know him! Marley's Ghost!" and fell again.
The same face; the very same. Marley in his pig-tail, usual
waistcoat, tights, and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like
his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The
chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, and
wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Scrooge observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds,
and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent:
so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat,
could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels, but
he had never believed it until now.
No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the
phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him;
though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and
marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its
head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he
was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.
" How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. " What
do you want with me?"
" Much!"-Marley's voice, no doubt about it.




ï~~MARLEY7S GHOST.




ï~~


ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

89

"Who are you?"
"Ask me who I was."
"Who were you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice.
"You're particular-for a shade."  He was going to say "to a
shade," but substituted this, as more appropriate.
"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
"Can you-can you sit down?" asked Scrooge, looking
oaubtfully at him.
"I can."
" Do it, then."
Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether a,nost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a
chair; and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might
involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the
ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were
quite used to it.
"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost.
"I don't," said Scrooge.
"What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that
of your senses?"
" I don't know," said Scrooge.
"Why do you doubt your senses?"
"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A
slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be
an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese,
a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than
of grave about you, whatever you are!"
Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did
he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is,
that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own atten.
tion, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed
the very marrow in his bones.
To sit, staring at those fixed, glazed eyes, in silence for a noe.




ï~~40

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

ment, would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There
was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided
with an infernal atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not fees
it himself, but this was clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat
perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still
agitated as by the hot vapor from an oven.
"You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge, returning quickly to
the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it
were only for a second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from
himself.
" I do," replied the Ghost.
"' You are not looking at it," said Scrooge.
"But I see it," said the Ghost, "notwitastanding."
" Well!" returned Scrooge. "I have but to swallow this, and
oe for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all
of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you-humbug!"
At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with
such a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrooge held on tight to
his chair, to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much
greater was his horror, when the phantom taking off the bandage
round its head, as if it were too warm to wear in-doors, its lower
jaw dropped down upon its breast!
Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his
face.
" Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble
me?"
" Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, "do you be.
lieve in me or not?"
" I do," said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spirits walk the
earth, and why do they come to me?"
" It is required of every man," the Ghost returned, " that the
spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and
travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

41

condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through
the world-oh, woe is me! and witness what it cannot share, but
might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!"
Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain, and wrung
its shadowy hands.
" You are fettered," said Scrooge, trembling.  " Tell me
why?"
" I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. " I
made it, link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own
free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange
to you?"
Scrooge trembled more and more.
" Or would you know," pursued the Ghost, "the weight and
length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy
and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have labored
on it, since. It's a ponderous chain!"
Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of
finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron
cable; but he could see nothing.
"Jacob," he said, imploringly. " Old Jacob Marley, tell me
more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob."
" I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "It comes from
other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other ministers to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would.
A very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot
stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond
our counting-house-mark me! in life my spirit never roved be.
yond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary
journeys lie before me!"
It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to
put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the
Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or
getting off his knees.




ï~~42

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"  ou must have been very slow about it, Jacob," Scrooge
observed, in a business-like manner, though with humility and
deference.
"Slow!" the Ghost repeated.
"Seven years dead," mused Scrooge. "And travelling all the
time?"
" The whole time," said the Ghost. " No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse."
"You travel fast?" said Scrooge.
"On the wings of the wind," replied the Ghost.
"You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven
years," said Scrooge.
The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its
chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward
would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed," cried the phantom,
" not to know, that ages of incessant labor by immortal creatures,
for this earth, must pass into eternity before the good of which it
is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian
spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will
find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not
to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's
opportunities misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!"
"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.
"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business;
charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the
comprehensive ocean of my business!"
It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause
of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground
again.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

43

"At this time of the rolling year," the spectre said, "I suffer most.
Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes
turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led
the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to
which its light would have conducted me?"
Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on
at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.
"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. " My time is nearly gone."
" I will," said Scrooge. "But don't be hard upon me! Don't
be flowery, Jacob! Pray!"
" How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can
see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and
many a day."
It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the
perspiration from his brow.
" That is no light part of my penance," pursued the Ghost.
"I am here to-night to warn you, that you may have yet a chance
and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my pro.
curing, Ebenezer."
"You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge.
" Thank'ee!"
" You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, " by Three
Spirits."
Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had
done.
"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?" he de.
manded, in a faltering voice.
"It is."
" I-I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge.
" Without their visits," said the Ghost, " you cannot hope to
chun the path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell
tolls one."




ï~~44

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?"
hinted Scrooge.
"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The
third upon the next night, when the last stroke of twelve has
ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for
your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"
When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from
the table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew
this, by the smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were
brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes
again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an
erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm.
The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step
it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre
reached it, it was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach,
which he did. When they were within two paces of each other,
Marley's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer.
Scrooge stopped.
Not so much in obedience as in surprise and fear: for, on the
raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the
air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. The spectre, after
listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated
out upon the bleak, dark night.
Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He
looked out.
The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither
in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them
wore chains like Marley's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty
governments) were linked together; none were free. Many had
been personally known to Scrooge in their lives. He had been
quite familiar with one old ghost in a white waistcoat, with a
monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried piteously at




ï~~A  CHRISTMAS CAROL.                    45
being unable to assist a wretcned woman with an infant, whom it
saw below, upon a door-step. The misery with them all was,
clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters,
and had lost the power for ever.
Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mit enshrouded
them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded
together; and the night became as it had been when he walked
home.
Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which
the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked
it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried
to say " Humbug!" but stopped at the first syllable. And being,
from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or
his glimpse of the Invisible Wortl, or the dull conversation of
the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose,
went straight to bed, without undrossing, and fell asleep upon the
instant.




ï~~STAVE TWO.
The First of the Three Spirits
WHEN Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he
could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque
walls of his chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of a neighboring
church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour.
To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to
seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then
stopped. Twelve! It was past two when he went to bed. The
clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works.
Twelve!
He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most
preposterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve; and
stopped.
~" Why, it isn't possible," said Scrooge, "that I can have slept
through a whole day and far into another night! It isn't possible
that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at
noon!"
The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and
groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost
off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see very little then. All he could make out
was, that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that
there was no noise of people running to and fro, and making a
great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had
beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the wor'a. This
46




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL

47

was a great relief, because " three days after sight of this First
of Exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or his order," and so
forth, would have become a mere United States' security if there
were no days to count by.
Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought
it over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he
thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored
not to think, the more he thought. Marley's Ghost bothered him
exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, after mature
inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a
strong spring released, to its first position, and presented the same
problem to be worked all through, " Was it a dream or not?"
Scrooge lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters
more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had
warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved
to lie awake until the hour was past; and, considering that he
could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was perhaps
the wisest resolution in his power.
The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced
he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock.
At length it broke upon his listening ear.
"Ding, dong!"
"A quarter past," said Scrooge, counting.
"Ding, dong!"
"Half past," said Scrooge.
"Ding, dong!"
" A quarter to it," said Scrooge.
"Ding, dong!"
"The hour itself," said Scrooge, triumphantly, "and nothing
else!"
He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with
a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy ONE. Light flashed up in the
room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.




ï~~48

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand.
Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those
to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were
drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent
attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor
who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you, and I am
standing in the spirit at your elbow.
It was a strange figure-like a child: yet not so like a child as
like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium,
which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view,
and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which
hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age;
and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom
was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the
hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its
legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper
members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white; and round
its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in
singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed
with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that
from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light,
by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for
a cap, which it now held under its arm.
Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing
steadiness, was not its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and
glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light
one instant, at another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated
in its distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one
leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now
a head without a body: of which dissolving parts, no outline could
be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away. And




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

49

in the very wonder of this, it would be itself again; distinct and
clear as ever.
"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?"
asked Scrooge.
"I am!"
The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead
of being so close beside him, it were at a distance
"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"Long past?" inquired Scrooge: observant of its dwarfish
stature.
" No. Your past."
Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if anybody
could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the
Spirit in his cap; and begged him to be covered.
" What!" exclaimed the Ghost, " would you so soon put out,
with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you
are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me
through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow!"
Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, or any
knowledge of having wilfully " bonneted" the Spirit at any period
of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought
him there.
"Your welfare!" said the Ghost.
Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help
thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more con
ducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking,
for it said immediately:
" Your reclamation, then. Take heed!"
It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently
by the arm.
"Rise! and walk with me!"
It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather




ï~~60

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed
was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that
he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp,
though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. He
rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped
its robe in supplication.
" I am a mortal," Scrooge remonstrated, " and liable to fall."
"Bear but a touch of my hand there," said the Spirit, laying it
upon his heart, " and you shall be upheld in more than this!"
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and
stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The
city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen.
The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear,
cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.
"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as
he looked about him. " I was bred in this place. I was a boy
here!"
The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though
it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the
old man's sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand
odors floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand
thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten!
" Your lip is trembling," said the Ghost. "And what is that
upon your cheek?"
Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that
it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he
would.
"You recollect the way!" inquired the Spirit.
" Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervor-" I could walk it
blindfold."
S" Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" obsen Ed
the Ghost. "Let us go on!"




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL

51

They walked along the road; Scrooge recognizing every gate,
and post, and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the
distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river. Some
shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards them with boys upon
their backs, who called to other boys in country gigs and carts,
driven by farmers. All these boys were in great spirits, and
shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry
music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said
the Ghost. "They have no consciousness of us."
The jocund travellers camne on; and as they came, Scrooge
knew and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond
all bounds to see them! Why did his cold eye glisten, and his
heart leap up as they went past! Why was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as
they parted at cross-roads and bye ways, for their several homes!
What was merry Christmas to Scrooge?    Out upon merry
Christmas! What good had it ever done to him?
"The school is not quite deserted," said the Ghost.  "A
solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still."
Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
They left the high-road, by a well remembered lane, and soon
approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercocksurmounted cupola, on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was
a large house, but one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices
were little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows
broken, and their gates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in
the stables; and the coach-houses and sheds were overrun with
grass. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within;
for entering the dreary hall, and glancing through the open doors
of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished, cold, and vast.
There was an earthly savor in the air, a chilly bareness in the




ï~~52

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up
by candle-light, and not too much to eat.
They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door
at the back of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed
a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain
deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading
near a feeble fire; and Scrooge sat down upon a form, and wept
to see his poor forgotten self as he had used to be.
Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from
the mice behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed
water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of an
empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell
upon the heart of Scrooge with softening influence, and gave a
freer passage to his tears.
The Spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger
self, intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man, in foreign garments: wonderfully real and distinct to look at: stood outside
the window, with an axe stuck in his belt, and leading an ass
laden with wood by the bridle.
" Why, it 's Ali Baba!" Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. "It's
dear old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmas
time, when yonder solitary child was left here all alone, he did
come, for the first time, just like that. Poor boy! And Valentine," said Scrooge, " and his wild brother, Orson; there they
go! And what 's his name, who was put down in his drawers,
asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don't you see him! And the
Sultan's Groom turned upside-down by the Genii; there he is
upon his head! Serve him right! I 'm glad of it. What busines had he to be married to the Princess!"
To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature
on such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying; and to see his heightened and excited face,




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

would have been a surprise to his business friends in the city,
indeed.
"There's the Parrot!" cried Scrooge. "Green body and
yellow tail, with a thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of
his head; there he is! Poor Robin C isoe, he called him, when
he came home again after sailing round the island. 'Poor Robin
Crusoe, where have you been, Robin Crusoe?' The man thought
he was dreaming, but he wasn't. It was the Parrot, you know.
There goes Friday, running for his life to the little creek!
Halloa! Hoop! Halloa!"
Then, with a rapidity of Transition very foreign to his usual
character, he said, in pity for his former self, "Poor boy!" ana
cried again.
"I wish," Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket,
and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: "but
it's too late now."
" What is the matter?" asked the Spirit.
" Nothing," said Scrooge. " Nothing.  There was a boy
singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night. I should like
to have given him something: that's all."
The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand: saying as
it did so, " Let us see another Christmas!"
Scrooge's former self grew larger at the words, and the room
became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrunk, the
windows cracked; fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling,
and the naked laths were shown instead; but how all this was
brought about, Scrooge knew no more than you do. He only
knew that it was quite correct; that everything had happened
so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had
gone home for the jolly holidays.
He was not reading now, but walking up and down despair.
ingly. Scrooge looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking
of his head, glanced anxiously towards the door.




ï~~54

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came
darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing
him, addressed him as her " Dear, dear brother."
"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the
child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. " To
bring you home, home, home!"
"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy.
"Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. "Home, for good
and all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder
than he used to be, that home's like Heaven! He spoke so gently
to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not
afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he
said, Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And
you're to be a man!" said the child, opening her eyes, " and are
never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the
Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world."
"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" exclaimed the boy.
She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his
head; but being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to
embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her childish
eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.
A terrible voice in the hall cried, "Bring down Master Scrooge's
box, there!" and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself,
who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension,
and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands
with him. He then conveyed him and his sister into the veriest
old well of a shivering best-parlor that ever was seen, where the
maps upon the wall, and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the
windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter
of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake,
and administered instalments of those dainties to the young peo.
ple: at the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

55

glass of "something " to the postboy, who answered that ne
thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had
tasted before, he had rather not. Master Scrooge's trunk being
by this time tied on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the
schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drove
gaily down the garden-sweep, the quick wheels dashing the hoarfrost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like
spray.
"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have
withered," said the Ghost. " But she had a large heart!"
"So she had," cried Scrooge. "You're right. I will not
gainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!"
"She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think,
children."
"One child," Scrooge returned.
" True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew."
Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind, and answered briefly,
Yes."
Although they had but that moment left the school behind
them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of the city, where
shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy carts
and coaches battled for the way, and all the strife and tumult
of a real city were. It was made plain enough, by the dressing
of the shops, that here too it was Christmas time again; but it
was evening, and the streets were lighted up.
The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked
Scrooge if he knew it.
"Know it!" said Scrooge. " Was I apprenticed here!"
They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh
wig, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been two
inches taller he must have knocked his head against the ceiling,
Scrooge cried in great excitement:




ï~~56

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwig
alive again!"
Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock,
which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from
his shoes to his organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice:
" Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"
Scrooge's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly
in, accompanied by his fellow-'prentice.
"Dick Wilkins, to be sure!" said Scrooge to the Ghost.
" Bless me, yes. There hlie is. lie was very much attached to
me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!"
" Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig.   "No more work tonight.  Christmas Eve, Dick.  Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's
have the shutters up," cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of
his hands, " before a man can say, Jack Robinson!"
You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They
charged into the street with the shutters-one, two, three-had
'em up in their places-four, five, six-barred 'em and pinned
'em-seven, eight, nine-and came back before you could have
got to twelve, panting like race-horses.
" Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high
desk, with wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's
have lots of room hers! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!"
Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared
away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking
on. It was done in a minute. Every moveable was packed off,
as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor
was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped
upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and
bright a ball.room, as you would desire to see upon a winter'
night.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

67

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty
desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomachaches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In
came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and loveable. In came
the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all
the young men and women employed in the business. In came
the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook,
with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the
boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board
enough from his master; trying to hide himself behind the girl
from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears
pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after another;
some shily, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some
pushing, sonme pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow.
Away they all went, twenty couple at once, hands half round
and back again the other way; down the middle and up again;
round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old
top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top oouple
starting off again as soon as they got there; all top couples at
last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was
brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance,
cried out, " well done!" and the fiddler plunged his hot face
into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. But,
scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began again,
though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had
been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran.
new man, resolved to beat him out of sight or perish.
There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more
dances; and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was
a great piece of cold roast, and there was a great piece of cold
boiled, and there were mince pies, and plenty of beer. But the
great effect of the evening came after the roast and boiled, when
the fiddler (an artful dog, mind! the sort of man who knew his




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

business better than you or I could have told it him) struck up
"Sir Roger de Coverly." Then old Fezziwig stood oult to dance
with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece
of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of
partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who
would dance, and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been twice as many, ah! four times, old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs.
Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every
sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher, and
I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's
calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons.
You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would become of 'em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig
had gone all through the dance-advance and retire, hold hands
with your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread-theneedle, and back again to your place-Fezziwig "cut," cut so
deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon
his feet again without a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up.
Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the
door, and, shaking hands with every person individually as he or
she went out, wished him or her a merry Christmas. When
everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same
to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads
were left to their beds, which were under a counter in the back
shop.
During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a man
out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with
his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former
self and Dick were turned from them, that he remembered the




ï~~7Th         -

MR. FEZZIWIG'S BALL.




ï~~


ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

59

Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him,
while the light upon its head burned very clear.
" A small matter," said the Ghost, "to make these silly folks
so full of gratitude."
" Small?" echoed Scrooge.
The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who
were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when
he had done so, said,
"Why! Is it not? Ie has spent but a few pounds of your
mortal money: three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he
deserves this praise?"
" It isn't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. " It isn't
that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy:
to make our service light or burdensome: a pleasure or a toil.
Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight
and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up:
what then! The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it
cost a fortune."
He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
" What is the matter?" asked the Ghost.
"Nothing particular," said Scrooge.
" Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted.
" No," said Scrooge, " No. I should like to be able to say a
word or two to my clerk just now! That's all!"
His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance
to the wish: and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side
in the open air.
" My time grows short," observed the Spirit. " Quick."'
This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he couid
see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw
himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. His
face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had




ï~~60

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an
eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the pas
sion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing
tree would fall.
[Ie was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a
morning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled
in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past.
" It matters little," she said, softly. " To you, very little.
Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort
you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just
cause to grieve."
" What Idol has displaced you?" he rejoined.
"A golden one."
" This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said.
" There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there
is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pur
suit of wealth!"
"You fear the world too much," she answered, gently. " Al
your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the
chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspira
tions fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosse,
you. Have I not?"
" What then?" he retorted. " Even if I have grown so muck
wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you."
She shook her head.
" Am I?"
"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were
both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could im.
prove our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are
changed. When it was made, you were another man."
" 1 was a boy," he said impatiently.
" Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are,"
she returned. "I am. That which promised happiness when




ï~~A CHtRISTMAS CAROL.

61

we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now that we are
two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will
not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release
you."
"Have I ever sought release?"
"In words. No. Never."
" In what, then?"
" In a changed nature: in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. In everything
that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this
had never been between us," said the girl, looking mildly,
but with steadiness, upon him; " tell me, would you seek me
out and try to win me now? Ah, no?"
He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite
of himself. But he said with a struggle, "You think not."
"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered,
"1Heaven knows! When I have learned a Truth like this, I
know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were
free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you
would choose a dowerless girl-you who, in your very confidence
with her, weigh everything with Gain: or, choosing her, if for a
moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do
so, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely
follow? I do; and I release you. With a full heart, for the
love of him you once were."
He was about to speak; but with her head turned from hirn
she resumed,
" You may-the memory of what is past half makes me hope
you will-have pain in this. A very, very, brief time, and you
will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable
dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you
be happy in the life you have chosen!"
She left him; and they parted.




ï~~62

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Spirit," said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conduct me
home. Why do you delight to torture me?"
" One shadow more!" exclaimed the Ghost.
Â~' No more!" cried Scrooge. "No more, I don't wish to see
it. Show me no more!"
But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and
forced him to observe what happened next.
They were in another scene and place: a room, not very large
or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a
beautiful young girl, so like the last that Scrooge believed it was
the same, until he saw her, now a comely matron, sitting opposite
her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous,
for there were more children there, than Scrooge in his agitated
state of mind could count; and, unlike the celebrated herd in
the poem, they were not forty children conducting themselves
like one, but every child was conducting itself like forty. The
consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed
to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed
heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to ningle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands
most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of
them! Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! I
wouldn't for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I
wouldn't have plucked it off God bless my soul! to save my
life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold young
brood, I couldn't have done it; I should have expected my arm
to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight
again. And yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have
touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have
opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast
eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair,
an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

63

should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest license
of a child, and yet been man enough to know its value.
But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush
immediately ensued that she with laughing face and plundered
dress was borne towards it, the centre of a flushed and boisterous
group, just in time to greet the father, who came home attended
by a man laden with Christmas toys and presents. Then the
shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught that was made on
the defenceless porter! The scaling him, with chairs for ladders, to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels,
hold on tight by his cravat, hug him round the neck, pommel his
back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts
of wonder and delight with which the development of every
package was received!   The terrible announcement that the
baby had been taken in the act of putting a doll's frying-pan into
his mouth, and was more than suspected of having swallowed a
fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude, and
ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that
by degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlor,
and, by one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where
they went to bed, and so subsided.
And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when
the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on
him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and
when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful
and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a
spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very
dim indeed.
" Belle," said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile,
" I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon."
" Who was it?"
"' Guess!"




ï~~64

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" How can I? Tut, don't I know," she added in the same
breath, laughing as he laughed. " Mr. Scrooge."
' Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office-window: and as it
was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely
help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I
hear; and there he sat, alone. Quite alone in the world, I do
believe."
"Spirit," said Scrooge, in a broken voice, " remove me from
this place."
"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been,"
said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame
me."
" Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed. " I cannot bear it!"
He turned upon the Ghost, and, seeing that it looked upon him
with a face in which, in some strange way, there were fragments
of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it.
"Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer!"
In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the
Ghost, with no visible resistance on its own part, was undisturbed
by any effort of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light was
burning high and bright; and dimly connecting that with its in.
fluence over him, he seized the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its head.
The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered
its whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his
force, he could not hide the light, which streamed from under
it, in an unbroken flood, upon the ground.
He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an
irresistible drowsiness; and, farther, of being in his own bedroom. HIe gave the cap a parting squeeze, in which his hand
relaxed; and had barely time to reel to bed, before he sank irntn
a heavy sleep.




ï~~STAVE THREE.
The Second of the Three Spirits.
AWAKING in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting
up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion
to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt
that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time,
for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second
messenger despatched to him through Jacob Marley's intervention. But, finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when lihe
began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would
draw back, he put them every one aside with his own hands;
and, lying down again, established a sharp look-out all round the
bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its
appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise and made
nervous.
Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on
being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to
the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitchand-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no
doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of
subjects. Without venturing for Scrooge quite as hardily as this,
I don't mind calling on you to believe that he was ready for a good
broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a
baby and a rhinoceros would have astonished him very much.
Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any
means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bell
A                             65




ï~~66

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent
fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour
went by, yet nothing came. All this time, he lay upon his bed,
the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed
upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour; and which being
only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was
powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at; and was
sometimes apprehensive that lie might be at that very moment an
interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the
consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to thinkas you or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person
not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done
in it, and would unquestionably have done it too-at last, I say,
he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light
might be in the adjoining room; from whence, on further tracing
it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his
mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.
The moment Scrooge's hand was on the lock, a strange voice
called him by his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.
It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it
had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling
were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove,
from every part of which bright gleaming berries glistened. The
crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light,
as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a
mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrifaction
of a chimney had not known in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, or
for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up upon the
flcrr, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot
chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears,
immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

(7

*he chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon
this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a
glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up,
high up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round
the door.
" Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know me
better, man!"
Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit.
IHe was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though its
eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. "Look
upon me!"
Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep
green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment
hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare,
as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its
feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also
bare; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath
set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls
were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its
open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor, and its
joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard;
but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with
rust.
" You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimed the
Spirit.
"Never," Scrooge made answer to it.
" Have never walked forth with the younger members of my
family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers born
in these later years?" pursued the Phantom.
"I don't think I have," said Scrooge. "I am afraid I have not.
Have you had many brothers, Spirit?"
" More than eighteen hundred," said the Ghost.




ï~~68

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"A tremendous family to provide for!" muttered Scrooge.
The Ghost of Christmas Present rose.
" Spirit," said Scrooge, submissively, " conduct me where you
will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson
which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me,
let me profit by it."
" Touch my robe!"
Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.
Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry,
brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and
punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy
glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on
Christmas morning, where (for the weather was severe) the people
made a rough, but brisk, and not unpleasant kind of music, in
scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings,
and from the tops of their houses: whence it was mad delight to
the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and
splitting into artificial little snow-storms.
The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker,
contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the ground;
which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the
heavy wheels of carts and wagons; furrows that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets
branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace, in the
thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the
shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half-thawed, halffrozen, whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty
atoms, as if all the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent,
caught fire, and were blazing away to their dear heart's content.
There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and
yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest
summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavored to
diffuse in vain.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL,

69

For the people who were shovelling away on the nouse-tops
were jovial and full of glee, calling out to one another from the
parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowballbetter natured missile far than many a wordy jest-laughing
heartily if it went right, and not less heartily if it went wrong.
The poulterers' shops were still half-open, and the fruiterers' were
radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied
baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in
their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broadgirthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth
like Spanish Friars: and winking from their shelves in wanton
slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the
hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high
in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in
the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks.
that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there
were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fra.
grance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shuflHings
ankle-deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins,
squab and swarthy, setting offthe yellow of the oranges and lemons,
and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten
after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these
choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnantblooded race, appeared to know that there was something going
on; and, to a fish, went gasping round and round their little world
in slow and passionless excitement.
The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps
two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses!
It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made
a merry sound, or that the twine and roller pal'ted company so
briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like jug




ï~~70

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

gling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were
so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful
and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon
so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied
fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest
lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that
the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed
in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress: but the customers
were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day,
that they tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their
wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter,
and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds
of the like mistakes in the best humor possible; while the Grocer
and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts
with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been
their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas
daws to peck at if they chose.
But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and
chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their
best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time
there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless
turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers'
shops. The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest the
Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge beside him in a baker's
doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very
uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry
words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled with each
other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their
good humor was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame
to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it,
so it was!




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

71

In time the Bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and
yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and
the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above
each baker's oven; where the pavement smoked as if its stones
were cooking too.
"Is there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your
torch?" asked Scrooge.
"There is. My own."
" Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" asked
Scrooge.
" To any kindly given. To a poor one most."
" Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge.
"Because it needs it most."
"Spirit," said Scrooge, after a moment's thought, "I wonder
you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire
to cramp these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment!"
"I!" cried the Spirit.
"You would deprive them of their means of dining every
seventh day, often the only day on which they can be said to dine
at all," said Scrooge. " Wouldn't you?"
"  I!" cried the Spirit.
" You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day?" said
Scrooge. "And it comes to the same thing."
" I seek!" exclaimed the Spirit.
" Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name,
or, at least, in that of your family," said Scrooge.
" There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit,
" who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion,
pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name;
who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had
never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on them.
selves, not us."
Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible,




ï~~72

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

as they had been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a
remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at
the baker's), that, notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could
accommodate himself to any place with ease; and that he stood
beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like a supernatural
creature, as it was possible he could have done in any lofty hall.
And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing
off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty
nature, and his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight
to Scrooge's clerk's; for there he went, and took Scrooge with
him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door the
Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit's dwelling with
the sprinklings of his torch. Think of that! Bob had but fifteen
"Bob " a week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen
copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas
Present blessed his four-roomed house!
Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but
poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribands, which are
cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the
cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also
brave in ribands; while Master Peter Cratehit plunged a fork
into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his son
and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the
fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl,
came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had
smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in
luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onions, these young Cratchits
danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratehit to the
skies, while he (nriot proud, although his collars nearly choked
him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked
loudly at the saucepan-lid, to be let out and peeled.




ï~~A CIIHRISTMAS CAROL.

73

" What has ever got your precious father, then?" said Mrs.
Cratchit. " And your brother, Tiny Tim; and Martha warn't
as late last Christmas Day, by half-an-hour!"
" Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as she spoke.
" Hlere's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits.
" Hurrah! There's such a goose, Martha!"
" Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are "
said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her
shawl and bonnet for her, with officious zeal.
"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl,
" and had to clear away this morning, mother!"
"Well! Never mind, so long as you are come," said Mrs.
Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a
warm, Lord bless ye!"
" No, no! There's father coming,'' cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. " Hide, Martha, hide!"
So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with
at least three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging
down before him; and his thread-bare clothes darned up and
brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder.
Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!
" Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking
round.
"Not coming!" said Mrs. Cratchit.
" Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his
high spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from
church, and had come home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in a
joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door,
and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled




ï~~74

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might
hear the pudding singing in the copper!
"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when
she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his
daughter to his heart's content.
" As good as gold," said Bob, " and better. Somehow he gets
thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest
things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped
the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and
it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day,
who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see."
Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and
hearty.
His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back
came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by hisj
brother and sister to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob,
turning up his cuffs, as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby-compounded some hot mixture in a jug
with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round, and put it
on the hob to simmer; Master Peter and the two ubiquitous
young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
returned in high procession.
Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the
rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black
swan was a matter of course: and, in truth, it was something
very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready
tbefore-hand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter
mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweet.
ened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob
took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner, at the table, the
two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not fbrgetting them.
selves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

75

into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and
grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as
Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the
long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmui of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by
the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his
knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe
there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor,
size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration.
Eked out by the apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone on the dish),
they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and
the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and
onion to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by
Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone-too nervous to
bear witnesses-to take the pudding up, and bring it in.
Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should
break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over
the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry
with the goose * a supposition at which the two young Cratchits
became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed.
Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the
copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A
smell like an eating-house and a pastry cook's next door to each
other, with a laundress's next door to that? That was thle pudding. In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered: flushed, but srnil
ing proudly: with the pudding like a speckled cannon-ball, so
hard and fir:, blazing in half of half a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bcdiglit wittlh Cliristinas hlolly stuck into the top.




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Oh, a wonderful pudding   Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too,
that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs.
Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratechit said that now the
weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts
about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say
about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding
for so large a family. It would have been flat heresy to do so.
Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.
At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the
hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug
being tasted and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put
upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then
all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob
Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob
Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass; two tumblers,
and a custard-cup without a handle.
These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beam.
ing looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked
noisily. Then Bob proposed
" A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us "
Which all the fhmily re-echoed.
" God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
lie sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob
held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and
wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be
taken from him.
" Spirit," said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt beore, " tell me if Tiny Tim will live."
" I see a vacant seat," replied the Ghost, " in the poor chimney
corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If
these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will
lie."




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

77

" No, no," said Scrooge. " Oh no, kind Spirit! say he will
be spared."
" If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other
of my race," returned the Ghost, " will find him here. What
then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the
surplus population."
Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the
Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.
" Man," said the Ghost, " if man you be in heart, not adamant,
forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered what the surplus is, and where it is. Will you decide what men shall live,
what men shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven
you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this
poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the
dust!"
Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his
eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing
his own name.
" Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the
Founder of the Feast!"
" The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my
mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."
" My dear," said Bob, " the children; Christmas Day."
" It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which
one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling
mrar, as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows
it better than you do, poor fellow!"
" My dear," was Bob's mild answer, " Christmas Day."
" I'll drink his health for your sake, and the Day's," said Mrs.
Cratchit, "not for his. Long life to him! A merry Christmas




ï~~78

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and a happy New Year!-he'll be very merry and very happy,
I have no doubt!"
The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of
their proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim
drank it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge
was the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a
dark shadow on the party which was not dispelled for full five
minutes.
After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than
before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done
with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye
for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full five-andsixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter's being a man of business; and Peter
himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his collars,
as if he were deliberating what particular investments he should
favor when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income.
Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, then told them
what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she
worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow
morning for a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday, she
passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord
some days before, and how the lord was much about as tall as
Peter; at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you
couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All this time
the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and bye and
bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow,
from Tiny Tim; who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it
very well indeed.
There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a
handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were
far from being waterproof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter
might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawn.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

79

broker's.  But they were happy, grateful, pleased with one
another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and
looked happier yet in the bright sparklings of the Spirit's torch
at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny
Tim, until the last.
By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily;
and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness
of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlors, and all sorts of rooms,
was wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed pre.
parations for a cosy dinner, with hot plates baking through and
through before the fire, and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn,
to shut out cold and darkness. There, all the children of the
house were running out into the snow to meet their married
sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet
them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests
assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and
fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some
near neighbor's house; where, woe upon the single man who saw
them enter-artful witches: well they knew it-in a glow.
But if you had judged from the numbers of people on their
way to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no
one was at home to give them welcome when they got there,
instead of every house expecting company, and piling up its fires
half-chimney high. Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted!
How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capacious palm,
and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its bright and
harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very lamp.
lighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky street with specks
of light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere;
laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed: though little kenned the
lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas!
Anrid now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they
stood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses o.




ï~~80

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-place
of giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed-or
would have done so, but for the frost that held it prisoner; and
nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse, rank grass. Down
in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, which
glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and
frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom
of darkest night.
" What place is this?" asked Scrooge.
" A place where Miners live, who labor in the bowels of the
earth," returned the Spirit. "But they know me. See!"
A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone,
they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire.
An old, old man and woman, with their children and their children's children, and another generation beyond that, all decked
out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a voice that
seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste,
was singing them a Christmas song; it had been a very old song
when he was a boy; and from time to time they all joined in
the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man
got quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his
vigor sank again.
The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe,
and passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea? To
sea. To Scrooge's horror, looking back, he saw the last of the
land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were
deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared,
and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely
tried to undermine the earth.
Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so
from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed the wild
year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

81

sea-weed clung to its base, and storm-birds-born of the wind
one might suppose, as sea-weed of the water-rose and fell about
it, like the waves they skimmed.
But even here, two men who watched the light had made a
fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a
ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands
over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other
a Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of thenm: the
elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hard
weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be: struck up a
sturdy song that was like a gale in itself.
Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving seaon, on-until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any
shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman
at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the
watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every
man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas
thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And
every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a
kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the
year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had
remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that
they delighted to remember him.
It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move
on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose
depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a great surprise to
Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a
much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognize it as his own
nephew's, and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room,
with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at that
same nephew with approving affability.




ï~~82

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Scrooge's nephew. " Ha, ha, ha!"
If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man
more blest in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I can say is, I
should like to know him, too. Introduce him to me, and I'll
cultivate his acquaintance.
It is a fair, even handed, noble adjustment of things, that while
there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the
world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humor.
When Scrooge's nephew laughed in this way; holding his sides,
rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant
contortions: Scrooge's niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as
he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand,
roared out, lustily,
"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
"He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" cried
Scrooge's nephew. " He believed it, too!"
"More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indignantly. Bless those women; they never do anything by halves.
They are always in earnest.
She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled,
surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed
made to be kissed-as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little
dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she
laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little
creature's head. Altogether she was what you would have called
provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too.  Oh, perfectly
satisfactory!
" He's a comical old fellow," said Scrooge's nephew, " that's the
truth; and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offen.
ces carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against
him."
"I'm sure he is very rich, Fred," hinted Scrooge's niece.
" At least you always tell me so."




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

83

"What of that, my dear," said Scrooge's nephew. " His
wealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He
don't made himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satisfac.
tion of thinking-ha, ha, ha!-that he is ever going to benefit Us
with it."
" I have no patience with him," observed Scrooge's niece.
Scrooge's niece's sisters, and all the other ladies, expressed the
same opinion.
"Oh, I have!" said Scrooge's nephew. "I am sorry for him;
I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill
whims? Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to
dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the
consequence? He don't lose much of a dinner."
"Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," interrupted
Scrooge's niece. Everybody said the same, and they must be
allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just
had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clustered
round the fire, by lamplight.
"Well! I am very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's nephew,
"because I haven't any great faith in these young housekeepers.
What do you say, Topper?"
Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's
sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast,
who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat
Scrooge's niece's sister-the plump one with the lace tucker:
not the one with the roses-blushed.
" Do go on, Fred," said Scrooge's niece, clapping her hands.
"He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridicu.
'Ious fellow!"
Scrooge's nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to keep the infection off; though the plump sister tried
hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example was unani.
mously followed.




ï~~84

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"I was only going to say," said Scrooge's nephew, "that the
consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry
with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which
could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy
old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same
chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him.
He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't help thinking
better of it-I defy him-if he finds me going there, in good
temper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you?
If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty
pounds, that's something; and I think I shook him yesterday."
It was their turn to laugh now, at the notion of his shaking
Scrooge.  But being thoroughly good-natured, alnd not much
caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he
encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle,
joyously.
After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical
family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a Glee
or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who could growl
away in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large
veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it. Scrooge's
niece played well upon the harp; and played among other tunes
a simple little air (a mere nothing; you might learn to whistle
it in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who
fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When this strain of
music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shown him, came
upon his mind; he softened more and more; and thought that
if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he might have
cultivated the kindness of life for his own happiness with his own
hands, without resorting to the sexton's spade that buried Jacob
Marley.




ï~~A CHIRISTMAS CAROL.

But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After a
while they played at forfeits, for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty
Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was first a game
at blindman's buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his
boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and
Scrooge's nephew; and that the Ghost of Christmas Present
knew it. The way he went after that plump sister in the lace
tucker, was an outrage on the credulity of human nature.
Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping up against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains,
wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where the
plump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you
had fallen up against him, as some of them did, and stood there;
he would have made a feint of endeavoring to seize you, which
would have been an affront to your understanding; and would
instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister.
She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and it really was not.
But when, at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her
silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her
into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was
the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his
pretending that it was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring
upon her finger, and a certain chain about her neck; was vile,
monstrous! No doubt she told him her opinion of it, when,
another blindman being in office, they were so very confidential
together, behind the curtains.
Scrooge's niece was not one of the blindman's buff party, but
was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a
snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind
her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admi.




ï~~86

CHRISTMAS STORIES

ration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at tne game
of How, When, and Where, she was very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew, beat her sisters hollow: though
they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you. There
might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all
played, and so did Scrooge; for, wholly forgetting, in the interest
he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in
their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and
very often guessed right, too; for the sharpest needle, best
Whitechapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper
than Scrooge: blunt as he took it in his head to be.
The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and
looked upon him with such favor that he begged like a boy to be
allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the Spirit
said could not be done.
" Here's a new game," said Scrooge. "One half hour, Spirit,
only one!"
It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew
had to think of something, the rest must find out what; he only
answering to their questions yes or no as the case was. The
brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from
him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a
disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled
and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of,
and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and
was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or
a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear.
At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst
into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled,
that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the
plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:




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87

" I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what
it is!"
' What is it?" cried Fred.
It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to " Is it a bear?"
ought to have been " Yes;" inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr.
Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way.
"He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure," said Fred,
"and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a
glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I
say, ' Uncle Scrooge!' "
" Well! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried.
" A Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to the old man,
whatever he is!" said Scrooge's nephew. " He wouldn't take it
from me, but may he have it, nevertheless! Uncle Scrooge!"
Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of
heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in
return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost
had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the
breath of the last word spoken by his nephew: and he and the
Spirit were again upon their travels.
Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they
visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside
sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they
were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient
in their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In al.
house, hospital, and jail, in misery's every refuge, where vain
man in his little brief authority had not made fast the door, and
barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his
precepts.
It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had




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CHRISTMIAS STORIES.

his doubts of this, because the Christmas holidays appeared to be
condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was
strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had
observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they
stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was
grey.
' Are spirits' lives short?" asked Scrooge.
" My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost.
" It ends to-night."
" To-night!" cried Scrooge.
" To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."
" The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that
moment.
" Forgive me if I am not justified in what 1 ask," said Scrooge
looking intently at the Spirit's robe, " but I see something strange
and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it
a foot or a claw?"
" It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the
Spirit's sorrowful reply, " Look here."
From the foldings of its robe it brought two children; wretch.
ed, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its
feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
" Oh, Man! look here. Look, look down here!" exclaimed
the Ghost.
They were a boy and a girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility.  Where
graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched
them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of
age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds.
Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared
out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of




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89

humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful
creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him
in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words
choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormmus magnitude.
SSpirit! are they yours?"  Scrooge could say no more.
" They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them.
" And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy
is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all
of their degree, out most of all beware this boy, for on his brow
I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.
Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the
city. " Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious
purposes, and make it worse! And bide the end!"
"Have they no refuge or resources?" cried Scrooge.
" Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for
the last time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"
The bell struck twelve.
Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As
the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of
old Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn
Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the
ground, towards him.




ï~~STAVE FOUR.
The Last of the Spirits
THE Phantom slowly, gravely, silently, approached. When it
came near him, Scrooge bent down upon his knee, for in the
very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed ') scatter
gloom and mystery.
It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its
head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to de.
tach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness
by which it was surrounded.
He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him,
and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread.
He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.
"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to
Come?" said Scrooge.
The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.
" You are about to show me shadows of the things that have
not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge
pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"
The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant
in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the
only answer he received.
Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge
feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled be.
neath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he
90




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91

prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as observ.
ing his condition, and giving him time to recover.
But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with
a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud
there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though
he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.
" Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, " I fear you more than
any Spectre I have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do
me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I
was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a
thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?"
It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before
them.
" Lead on!" said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on,
Spirit!"
The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him.
Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up,
hlie thought, and carried him along.
They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather
seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of its own
act. But there they were, in the heart of it; on 'Change, among
the merchants; who hurried up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in groups, and looked at their
watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals, and
so fbrth, as Scrooge had seen them often.
The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men.
Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced
to listen to their talk.
"No," said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, " I don't
know much about it either way, I only know he's dead."
" When did he die?" inquired another.




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Last night, I believe."
" Why, what was the matter with him?" asked a third, taking
a vast quantity of snuff out of a very large snuff-box. "I thought
he'd never die."
SGod knows," said the first, with a yawn.
" What has he done with his money?" asked a red-faced gentleman, with a pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose, that
shook like the gills of a turkey-cock.
"I haven't heard," said the man with the large chin, yawning
again. "Left it to his Company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to
me. That's all I know."
This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.
"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral," said the same speaker;
"for upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose
we make up a party and volunteer?"
"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided," observed the gentleman with the excrescence on his nose. "But I must be fed, if I
make one."
Another laugh.
" Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all," said
the first speaker, " for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat
lunch. But I'll offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come
to think of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn't his most particular
friend; for we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Bye,
bye!"
Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other
groups. Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit
for an explanation.
The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two
persons meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.
He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of
business: very wealthy, anid of great importance. He had made




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93

a point always of standing well in their esteem: in a business
point of view, that is; strictly in a business point of view.
" How are you?" said one.
" How are you?" returned the other.
" Well!" said the first. "Old Scratch has got his own at last,
hey?"
"So I am told," returned the second. " Cold, isn't it?"
"Seasonable for Christmas time. You're not a skater, I sup.
pose?"
"No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning!"
Not another word. That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.
Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit
should attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial;
but feeling assured that they must have some hidden purpose,
he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could
scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Jacob,
his old partner, for that was Past, and this Ghost's province was
the Future. Nor could he think of any one immediately connected
with himself, to whom he could apply them. But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some latent moral
for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every word
he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the
shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation
that the conduct of his future self would give him the clue he
missed, and would render the solution of these riddles easy.
He looked about in that very place for his own image; but
another man stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock
pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness
of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the Porch.
It gave him little surprise, however, for he had been revolving
in his mind a change of life, and thought and hoped he saw his
new-born resolutions carried out in this.




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CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with its out.
stretched hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful
quest, he fancied from the turn of the hand, and its situation in
reference to himself, that the Unseen Eyes were looking at him
keenly. It made him shudder, and feel very cold.
They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the
town, where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he
recognized its situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul
and narrow; the shops and houses wretched; the people half.
naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys and archways, like so
many cesspools, disgorged their offences of smell, and dirt, and
life, upon the straggling streets, and the whole quarter recked with
crime, with filth, and misery.
Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed
beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags,
bottles, and bones, and greasy offal were bought. Upon the floor
within, were piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges,
files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that
few would like to scrutinize were bred and hidden in mountains
of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and sepulchres of
bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a charcoalstove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly seventy
years of age, who had screened himself from the cold air without,
by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a line,
and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.
Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of this man
just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But
she had scarcely entered, when another woman, similarly laden,
came in too; and she was closely followed by a man in faded
black, who was no less startled by the sigh of them than they had
been upon the recognition of each other. After a short period of
blank astonishment, in which the old man with the pipe had joined
them, they all three burst into a laugh.




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95

" Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she who had
entered first. " Let the laundress alone to be the second; and
let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old
Joe, here's a chance. If we haven't all three met here without
meaning it!"
"You couldn't have met in a better place," said old Joe,
removing his pipe from his mouth. "Come into the parlor. You
were made free of it long ago, you know; and the other two an't
strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah! How it
skreeks! There an't such a rusty bit of metal in the place as its
own hinges, I believe, and I'm sure there's no such old bones here
as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our calling, we're well
matched. Come into the parlor. Come into the parlor."
The parlor was the space behind the screen of rags. The old
man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having
trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night) with the stem of his
pipe, put it in his mouth again.
While he did this the woman who had already spoken threw
her bundle on the floor and sat down in a flaunting manner on
a stool; crossing her elbows on her knees, and looking with a
bold defiance at the other two.
"What odds, then! What odds, Mrs. Dilber?" said the woman.
"Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always
did!"
" That's true, indeed!" said the laundress. " No man more
so."
" Why, then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman;
who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's
coats, I suppose?"
" No, indeed!" said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. "We
should hope not."
"Very well, then!" cried the woman. "That's enough.




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a
dead man, I suppose."
"No, indeed," said Mrs. Dilber, laughing.
"If he wanted to keep 'emr after he was dead, a wiekea old
screw," pursued the woman, " why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him
when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his
last there, alone by himself."
" It's the truest word that ever was spoke," said Mrs. Dilber.
"It's a judgment on him."
"I wish it was a little heavier judgment," replied the woman;
" and it should have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have
laid my hands on anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and
let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be
the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We knew pretty well that
we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. It's
no sin. Open the bundle, Joe."
But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this; and
the man in faded black, mounting the breach first, produced his
plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-ease,
a pair of sleeve-buttons, and a brooch of no great value, were all.
They were severally examined and appraised by old Joe, who
chalked the sums he was disposed to give for each upon the wall,
and added them up in a total when he found that there was nothing
more to come.
"That's your account," said Joe, " and I wouldn't give another
sixpence, if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?"
Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing
apparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs,
and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same
manner.
"I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine,
and that's the way I ruin myself," said old Joe. " That's your




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97

account. If you asked me for another penny, and made it an
open question, I'd repent of being so liberal, and knock off half-a.
crown."
"And now undo my bundle, Joe," said the first woman.
Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of
opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged
out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff.
" What do you call this?" said Joe. " Bedcurtains?"
"Ah!" returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on
her crossed arms. " Bedeurtains!"
"You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, with
him lying there?" said Joe.
" Yes, I do," replied the woman. " Why not?"
"You were born to make your fortune," said Joe, "and you'll
certainly do it."
" I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anything in
it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as He was, I
promise you, Joe," returned the woman, coolly. "Don't drop that
oil upon the blankets, now."
"His blankets?" asked Joe.
"Whose else's do you think?" replied the woman. " Ie isn't
likely to take cold without 'em, I dare say."
"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" said old
Joe, stopping in his work, and looking up.
"Don't you be afraid of that," returned the woman. " I an't
so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for such things,
if he did. Ah! You may look through that shirt till your eyes
ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place.
It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it,
if it hadn't beer. fbfi me."
" What do you call wasting of it?" asked old Joe.
"Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure," replied the
woman with a laugh. " Somebody was fool enough to do it, but




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CHRISTMAS STORIES.

1 took it off again. If calico an't good enough for such a purpose,
it isn't good enough for anything. It's quite as becoming to the
body. He can't look uglier than he did in that one."
Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror.  As they sat
grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old
man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which
could hardly have been greater, though they had been obscene
demons, marketing the corpse itself.
"Ha, ha!" laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing
a flannel bag with money in it, told out their several gains upon
the ground. "This is the end of it, you see! He frightened
every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when
he was dead! Ha, ha, ha!"
"Spirit!" said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. "I see,
I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My
life tends that way, now. Merciful Heaven, what is this!"
He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he
almost touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath
a ragged sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though
it was dumb, announced itself in awful language.
The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any
accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a
secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A
pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and
on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared fbr, was
the body of this man.
Scrooge glanced towards the phantom. Its steady hand was
pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that
the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's
part, would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how
easy it would be to do, and longed to do it; but had no more
power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the spectre at his side.
Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here,




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99

and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for
this is thy dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honored
head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make
one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall
down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still;
but that the hand was open, generous and true; the heart brave,
warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's.  Strike, Shadow,
strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to
sow the world with life immortal!
No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet
he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought if this
man could be raised up now, what would be his foremost thoughts?
Avarice, hard dealing, griping cares; They have brought him
into a rich end, truly!
He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman,
or a child, to say he was kind to me in this or that, and for the
memory of one kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was
tearing at the door, and there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What they wanted in the room of death,
and why they were so restless and disturbed, Scrooge did not
dare to think.
" Spirit!" he said, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I
shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!"
Still the ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.
"I understand you," Scrooge returned, " and I would do it, if I
could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power."
Again it seemed to look upon him.
"If there is any person in the town who feels emotion caused
by this man's death," said Scrooge, quite agonized, "show that
person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!"
The phanto n spread its dark robe before him for a moment,
like a wing; and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight,
where a mother and her children were.




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CHRISTMAS  STORIES.

She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness; foi
she walked up and down the room; started at every sound;
looked out from the window; glanced at the clock; tried, but in
vain, to work with her needle; and could hardly bear the voices
of the children in their play.
At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried
to the door, and met her husband; a man whose face was carp.
worn and depressed, though he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of serious delight of which
he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to repress.
He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by
the fire; and when she asked him faintly what news (which was
not until after a long silence), he appeared embarrassed how to
answer.
"Is it good," she said, " or bad?" to help him.
"Bad," he answered.
"We are quite ruined?"
" No. There is hope yet, Caroline."
" If he relents," she said, amazed, "there is! Nothing is past
hope, if such a miracle has happened."
" He is past relenting," said her husband. " Hie is dead."
She was a mild and patient creature, if her face spoke truth;
nut she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with
clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and
was sorry; but the first was the emotion of her heart.
" What the half-drunken woman, whom I told you of last night,
said to me when I tried to see him and obtain a week's delay;
and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid me; turns out to
be quite true. He was not only very ill, but dying, then."
" To whom will our debt be transferred?"
" I don't know. But before that time we shall be ready with.he money; and even though we were not, it would be bad fer




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101

tune, indeed, to find so merciless a creditor in his successor. We
may sleep to.night with light hearts, Caroline!"
Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The
children's faces hushed, and clustered round to hear what they
so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house
for this man's death! The only emotion that the Ghost could
show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure.
"Let me see some tenderness connected with a death," said
Scrooge; " or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now,
will be for ever present to me."
The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to
nis feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there
to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered
poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he had visited before;
and found the mother and the children seated round the fire.
Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still
as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a
book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged
in sewing. But surely they were very quiet!
"' And he took a child and set him in the midst of them.' "
Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not dreamed
them. The boy must have read them out, as he and the Spirit
crossed the threshold. Why did he not go on?
The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up
to her face.
"The color hurts my eyes," she said.
The color? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!
"They're better now again," said Cratchit's wife. "It makes
tlhem weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to
your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be
near his time."
"Past it, rather," Peter answered, shutting up his book. " But,




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CHRISTMAS STORIES.

I think he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last
evenings, mother."
They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady,
cheerful voice, that only faltered once:
"I have known him walk with-I have known him walk with
Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast, indeed."
"And so have I," cried Peter. " Often."
"And so have I!" exclaimed another. So had all.
"But he was very light to carry," she resumed, intent upon
her work, " and his father loved him so, that it was no troubleno trouble. And there is your father at the door!"
She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforterhe had need of it, poor fellow-came in. His tea was ready for
him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most.
Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each
child, a little cheek, against his face, as if they said, "Don't mind
it, father. Don't be grieved!"
Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all
the family. He looked at the work upon the table, and praised
the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They
would be done long before Sunday, he said.
"Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?" said his wife.
"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could have gone.
It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But
you'll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a
Sunday. My little, little child!" cried Bob. " My little child!"
He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could
have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart,
perhaps, than they were.
He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which
was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a
chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of some one
naving been there lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and when he




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

103

had thoughlit a little and composed himself, he kissed the little
face. He was reconciled to Â~hat had happened, and went down
again quite happy.
They drew about the fire and talked; the girls and mother
working still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of
Mr. Scrooge's nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and
who, meeting him in the street that day, and seeing that he looked
a little-" just a little down, you know," said Bob, inquired what
had happened to distress him. " On which," said Bob, " for he
is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard, I told him.
'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,' he said, ' and heartily
sorry for your good wife.' By the bye, how he ever knew that,
I don't know."
"Knew what, my dear?"
"Why, that you were a good w i," replied Bob.
"Everybody knows that!" said Peter.
" Very well observed, my boy!" cried Bob. "I hope they
do. ' Heartily sorry,' he said ' fbr your good wife. If I can be
of service any way,' he said, giving me his card, ' that's where
I live. Pray come to me.' Now, it wasn't," cried Bob, "for
the sake of anything he might be able to do for us, so much as
for his kind way, that this was quite delightful. It really seemed
as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us."
" I'm sure he's a good soul!" said Mrs. Cratchit.
"You would be surer of it, my dear," returned Bob, "if you
saw and spoke to him. 1 shouldn't be at all surprised, mark
what I say, if he got Peter a better situation."
" Only hear that, Peter," said Mrs. Cratchit.
" And then," cried one of the girls, " Peter will be keeping
company with some one, and setting up for himself."
" Get along with you!" retorted Peter, grinning.
" It's just as likely as not," said Bob, "one of these days;
though there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But however




ï~~101

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and wnenever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none,
of us forget poor Tiny Tim-shall we-or this first parting that
was among us?"
"Never, father!" cried they all.
"And I know," said Bob, " I know, my dears, that when we
recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a
little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily amrnong ourselves,
and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it."
"No, never, father!" they all cried again.
"I am very happy," said little Bob, "I am very happy!"
Mrs. Cratchit kissed him his daughters kissed him, the two
young Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands.
Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God!
"Spectre," said Scrooge, "something informs me that our
parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how.
Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead?"
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come conveyed him, as before
-though at a different time, he thought: indeed, there seemed
no order in these latter visions, save that they were in the Future
-into the resorts of business men, but showed him not himself.
Indeed, the Spirit did not stay for anything, but went straight on,
as to the end just now desired, until besought by Scrooge to tarry
for a moment.
"This court," said Scrooge, "through which we hurry now,
is where my place of occupation is, and has been for a length of
time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be in days
to come."
The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.
"The house is yonder," Scrooge exclaimed. " Why do you
point away!"
The inexorable finger underwent no change
Scrooge hastened to the window of his othee, and looked in.
It was an office still, but not his. The furniture was not th




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

105

same, and the figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before.
He joined it once again, and wondering why and whither lih
had gone, accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He
paused to look round before entering.
A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name
hli had now to learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy
place. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the
growth of vegetation's death, not life; choked up with too much
burying; fat with repleted appetite. A worthy place!
The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One.
He advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly
as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its
solemn shape.
"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," said
Scrooge, " answer me one question. Are these the shadows of
the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that
May be, only?"
Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it
stood.
" Men's courses will fbreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Scrooge. " But if the courses
be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what
you show me!"
The Spirit was immovable as ever.
Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following
the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own
name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.
" Am I that man who lay upon the bed?" he cried, upon his
knees.
The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.
" No, Spirit! Oh no, no!"
The finger still was there




ï~~106

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Spirit r' he cried, tight clutching at its robe, "hear me!
am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have beer
but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past al
hope?"
For the first time the hand appeared to shake.
" Good Spirit," he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell
before it: "your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assule
me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by
an altered life!"
The kind hand trembled.
" I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the
year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The
Spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the
lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the
writing on this stone!"
In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free
itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The
Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.
Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate reversed,
he saw an alteration in the phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk,
collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.




ï~~STAVE FIVE.

The End of it.
YES! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the
room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before
him was his own to make amends in!
"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge
repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. " The spirits of all Three
shall strive within me. Oh, Jacob Marley! Heaven, and the
Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old
Jacob; on my knees!"
He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions,
that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had
been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face
was wet with tears.
" They are not torn down," cried Scrooge, folding one of his
bed-curtains in his arms, "they are not torn down, rings and
all. They are here: I am here: the shadows of the things that
would have been, may be dispelled. They will be. I know
they will!"
His hands were busy with his garments all this time: turning
them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mis.
laying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance.
" I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the same breath; and making a perfect Laocoon of himself
with hlis stocking. " I am as light as a feather, I am as happy
as an gatgtl, I ma as  erry as a school-boy. I am as giddy as
107




ï~~108

CHRISTMAS  STO[LIES.

a drunken man. A merry Christmas to everybody. A happy
New Year to all the world. HIallo here! Whoop! Hallo!"
He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing
there perfectly winded.
" There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!" cried Scrooge,
starting off again, and going round the fire-place. "There's the
door by which the Ghost of Jacob Marley entered! There's the
corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat! There's the
window where I saw the wandering Spirits! It's all right, it's
all true, it all happened. Ha, ha, ha!"
Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many
years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The
father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs!
" I don't know what day of the month it is!" said Scrooge.
"I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't
know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care.
I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo here!"
He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out
the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer,
ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash! Oh,
glorious, glorious!
Running to the window, he opened it and put out his head.
No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold; cold,
piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly
sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious, glorious!
" What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling down to a boy in
Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
" EH?" returned the boy with all his might of wonder.
" What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge.
"To-day!" replied the boy. " Why, CHRISTMAS DAY."
"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. " I haven't
missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.                   109
do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course the
can. Hallo, my fine fellow!"
" Hallo!" returned the boy.
" Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at
the corner?" Scrooge inquired.
" I should hope I did," replied the lad.
"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. " A remarkable boy!
Do you know whether they've sold the prize Turkey that was
hanging up there? Not the little prize Turkey: the big one?"
SWhat, the one as big as me?" returned the boy.
SWhat a delightful boy!" said Scrooge. " It's a pleasure to
talk to him. Yes, my buck!"
" It's langing there now," replied the boy.
" Is it?" said Scrooge. " Go and buy it."
SWalk-ER!" exclaimed the boy.
SNo, no," said Scrooge, " I am in earnest. Go and buy it,
and tell 'em to bring it here, that I may give them the direction
where to take it. Come back with the man, an(d I'll give you a
shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes, and I'll
give you half-a-crown!"
The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand
at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast.
"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing
his hands, and splitting with a laugh. " He shan't know who
sends it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never
made such a joke as sending it to Bob's will be!"
The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one,
but write it he did, somehow, and went down stairs to open the
street door, ready for the comning of the poulterer's man. As he
stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye.
" I shall love it as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, patting it
with his hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an
honest expression it has in its fhece! It's a wonderful knocker!




ï~~110

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

-Here's the Turkey. Hallo! Whoop! How are you! Mer.
ry Christmas!"
It was a Turkey! He never could have stood upon his legs,
that bird. He would have snapped 'em short off in a minute,
like sticks of sealing-wax.
"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town," said
Scrooge. " You must have a cab."
The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with
which he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with which he
paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed
the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which
he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he
cried.
Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake
very much; and shaving requires attention, even when you don't
dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the end of his
nose off, he would have put a piece of sticking-plaister over it,
and been quite satisfied.
He dressed himself " all in his best," and at last got into the
streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had
seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and walking
with his hands behind him, Scrooge regarded every one with a
delightful smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word,
that three or four good-humored fellows said, " Good morning,
sir! A merry Christmas to you!"  And Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those
were the blithest in his ears.
He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the
portly gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day
before and said, " Scrooge and Marley's, I believe?" It sent a
pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look
upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay straight
before him, and he took it.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

111

"My dear sir," said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking
the old gentleman by both his hands. " How do you do? I hope
you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A merry
Christmas to you, sir!"
"Mr. Scrooge?"
" Yes," said Scrooge.  "That is my name, and I fear it
may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon.
And will you have the goodness "-here Scrooge whispered in
his ear.
" Lord bless me!" cried the gentleman, as if his breath were
gone. "My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?"
"If you please," said Scrooge. "Not a farthing less. A great
many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you
do me that favor?"
"My dear sir," said the other, shaking hands with him: "I
don't know what to say to such munifi-"
"Don't say anything, please," retorted Scrooge. " Come and
see me. Will you come and see me?"
" I will!" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant
to do it.
"Thank'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you. I
thank you fifty times. Bless you!"
He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched
the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head,
and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of
houses, and up to the windows; and found that everything could
yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk-that
anything-could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon
hlie turned his steps towards his nephew's house.
He passed the door a dozen times before he had the courage to
go up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it.
"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the girl.
Nice girl! Very.




ï~~112

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Y es, sir.'
" Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge.
"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show
you up stairs, if you please."
"Thank'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand at.
ready on the dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear."
He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door
They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great
array); for these young housekeepers are always nervous on such
points, and like to see that everything is right.
" Fred!" said Scrooge.
Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started! Scroogi
had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with
the footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account.
" Why bless my soul!" cried Fred, " who's that?"
" It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will
you let me in, Fred?"
Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He
was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His
niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So
did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when
they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful una
nimity, won-der-ful happiness!
But he was early at the office next morning. Oh! he was early
there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchi,
coming late  That was the thing he had set his heart upon.
And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob
A quarter past. No Bob.   ie was full eighteen minutes and a
half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, tha
he might see him come into the Tank.
His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too
He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as i
he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.




ï~~A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

113

" Hallo!' growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice as neai
as he could feign it. " What do you mean by coming here at
this time of day?"
" I'm very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I am behind my time."
" You are!" repeated Scrooge. " Yes. I think you are.
Step this way, if you please."
"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the
Tank. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry
yesterday, sir."
" Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge, " I am
not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,"
he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig
in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the Tank again
" and therefore I am about to raise your salary!"
Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a
momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it; holding him;
and calling to the people in the court for help and a straitwaistcoat.
"A merry Christmas. Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestness
that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A
merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you
for many a year! I'll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist
your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very
afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob! Make
up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another
i, Bob Cratchit!"
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely
more; and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second
'ather. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good
a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town,
or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see
the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded
h




ï~~114            CHRISTMAS STORIES.
them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever hap.
pened on this globe, for good, in which some people did not have
their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as
these would be blind any way, he thought it quite as well that
they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady
in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was
quite enough for him.
He had no farther intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the
Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterward; and it was always
said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any
man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of
us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us,
Every One!




ï~~THE CHIMES.
8  e~oblr tou




ï~~


ï~~THE CHIMES:
A GOBLIN STORY.
FIRST QUARTER.
THERE are not many people-and as it is desirable that a story.
teller and a story-reader should establish a mutual understanding
as soon as possible, I beg it to be noticed that I confine this observation neither to young people nor to little people, but extend
it to all conditions of people: little and big, young and old: yet
growing up, or already growing down again-there are not, I
say, many people who would care to sleep in a church. I don't
mean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing has actually
been done, once or twice), but in the night, and alone. A great
multitude of persons will be violently astonished, I know, by this
position, in the broad bold Day. But it applies to Night. It must
be argued by Night. And I will undertake to maintain it successfully on any gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose,
with any one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me
singly in an old church-yard, before an old church-door; and
will previously empower me to lock him in, if needful to his
satisfaction, until morning.
For the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round and
rouvd a building of that sort, and moaning as it goes; and of
117




ï~~118

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

trying, with its unseen hand, the windows and the doors; and
seeking out some crevices by which to enter. And when it has
got in; as one not finding what it seeks, whatever that may be;
it wails and howls to issue forth again: and not content with
stalking through the aisles, and gliding round and round the
pillars, and tempting the deep organ, soars up to the roof, and
strives to rend the rafters: then flings itself despairingly:ipon
the stones below. and passes, muttering, into the vaults. Anon,
it comes up stealthily, and creeps along the walls: seeming to
read, in whispers, the Inscriptions sacred to the Dead. At some
of these, it breaks out shrilly, as with laughter; and at others,
moans and cries as if it were lamenting. It has a ghostly sound
too, lingering within the altar; where it seems to chaunt, in its
wild way, of Wrong and Murder done, and false Gods worship.
ped; in defiance of the Tables of the Law, which look so fair
and smooth, but are so flawed and broken. Ugh! Heaven preserve us, sitting snugly round the fire! It has an awful voice,
that wind at Midnight, singing in a church!
But high up in the steeple! There the foul blast roars and
whistles! High up in the steeple, where it is free to come and
go through many an airy arch and loophole, and to twist and
twine itself about the giddy stair, and twirl the groaning weathercock, and make the very tower shake and shiver! High up in
the steeple, where the belfry is; and iron rails are ragged with
rust; and sheets of lead and copper, shrivelled by the changing
weather, crackle and heave beneath the unaccustomed tread;
and birds stuff shabby nests into corners of old oaken joists and
beams; and dust grows old and grey; and speckled spiders, indolent and fat with long security, swing idly to and fro in the
vibration of the bells, and never lose their hold upon their threadspun castles in the air, or climb up sailor-like in quick alarm, or
drop upon the ground, and ply a score of nimble legs to save a
life I High up in the steeple of an old church, far above the




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

119

light and murmur of the town and far below the flying clouds
that shadow it, is the wild and dreary place at night: and
high up in the steeple of an old Church, dwelt the Chimes I
tell of.
They were old Chimes, trust me. Centuries ago, these Bells
had been baptized by bishops: so many centuries ago, that the
register of their baptism was lost long, long before the memory
of man: and no one knew their names. They had had their
Godfathers and Godmothers, these Bells (for my own part, by the
way, I would rather incur the responsibility of being Godfather
to a Bell than a Boy): and had had their silver mugs no doubt,
besides. But Time had mowed down their sponsors, and Henry
the Eighth had melted down their mugs: and they now hung,
nameless and mugless, in the church-tower.
Not speechless, though. Far from it. They had clear, loud,
lusty, sounding voices, had these Bells; and far and wide they
might be heard upon the wind. Much too sturdy Chimes were
they, to be dependent on the pleasure of the wind, moreover; for,
fighting gallantly against it when it took an adverse whim, they
would pour their cheerful notes into a listening ear right royally;
and bent on being heard, on stormy nights, by some poor mother
watching a sick child, or some lone wife whose husband was at
sea, they had been sometimes known to beat a blustering Nor'Wester-ay, " all to fits," as Toby Veck said; for though they
chose to call him Trotty Veck, his name was Toby, and nobody
could make it anything else either (except Tobias) without a
special act of parliament; he having been as lawfully christened
in his day as the Bells had been in theirs, though with not q
iso much of solemnity or public rejoicing.
For my part, I confess myself of Toby Veck's belief, for I am
sure he had opportunities enough of forming a correct one. And
whatever Toby Veck said, I say. And I take my stand by Toby
Veck, although he did stand all day long (and weary work it




ï~~t20

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

was) just outside the church door. In fact he was a ticket-porter
Toby Veck, and waited there for jobs.
And a breezy, goose-skinned, blue-nosed, red-eyed, stony-toed,
tooth-chattering place it was, to wait in, in the winter-time, as
Toby Veck well knew. The wind came tearing round the corner
-especially the east wind-as if it had sallied forth, express, from
the confines of the earth, to have a blow at Toby. And oftentimes
it seemed to come upon him sooner than it had expected, for
bouncing round the corner, and passing Toby, it would suddenly
wheel round again, as if it cried, " Why, here he is!"  Incontinently his little white apron would be caught up over his head
like a naughty boy's garments, and his feeble little cane would
be seen to wrestle and struggle unavailingly in his hand, and his
legs would undergo tremendous agitation, and Toby himself, all
aslant, and facing now in this direction, now in that, would be so
banged and buffeted, and touzled, and worried, and hustled, and
lifted off his feet, as to render it a state of things but one degree
removed from a positive miracle, that he wasn't carried up bodily
into the air, as a colony of frogs or snails or other portable creatures sometimes are, and rained down again, to the great astonishment of the natives, on some strange corner of the world where
ticket-porters are unknown.
But windy weather, in spite of its using him so roughly, was,
after all, a sort of holiday for Toby. That's the fact. He didn't
seem to wait so long for a sixpence in the wind, as at other times;
tbr the having to fight with that boisterous element took off his
attention, and quite freshened him up, when he was getting hungry
and low-spirited. A hard frost too, or a fall of snow, was an Event;
and it seemed to do him good, somehow or other-it would have
been hard to say in what respect though, Toby! So wind and
frost and snow, and perhaps a good stiff storm of hail, were Toby
Veck's red-letter days.
Wet weather was the worst: the cold, damp, clammy wet, that




ï~~THE  CHIIMES.

121

wrapped him up like a moist great-coat: the only kind of great.
coat Toby owned, or could have added to his comfort by dispensing
with. Wet days, when the rain came slowly, thickly, obstinately
down; when the street's throat, like his own, was choked with
mist; when smoking umbrellas passed and repassed, spinnil g
round and round like so many teetotums, as they knocked against
each other on the crowded foot-way, throwing off a little whirlpool
of uncomfortable sprinklings; when gutters brawled and waterspouts were full and noisy; when the wet from the projecting
stones and ledges of the church fell drip, drip, drip, on Toby,
making the wisp of straw on which he stood mere mud in no time;
those were the days that tried him. Then, indeed, you might see
Toby looking anxiously out from his shelter in an angle of the
church wall-such a meagre shelter that in summer time it never
cast a shadow thicker than a good-sized walking stick upon the
sunny pavement-with a disconsolate and lengthened face. But
coming out, a minute afterwards, to warm himself by exercise,
and trotting up and down some dozen times: he would brighten
even then, and go back more brightly to his niche.
They called him Trotty from his pace, which meant speed if
it didn't make it. He could have walked faster perhaps; most
likely; but rob him of his trot, and Toby would have taken to
his bed and died.   It bespattered him with mud in dirty
weather; it cost him a world of trouble; he could have walked
with infinitely greater ease; but that was one reason for his
clinging to it so tenaciously. A weak, small, spare old man, he
was a very Hercules, this Toby, in his good intentions. He
loved to earn his money. He delighted to believe-Toby was
very poor, and couldn't well afford to part with a delight-that
he was worth his salt. With a shilling or an eighteenpenny
message or small parcel in hand, his courage, always high,
rose higher. As he trotted on, he would call out to fast Post.
men ahead of him, to get out of the way, devoutly believing




ï~~122

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

that in the natural course of things he must inevitably overtake
and run them down; and he had perfect faith-not often tested
-in his being able to carry anything that man could lift.
Thus, even when he came out of his nook to warm himself or
a wet day, Toby trotted.  Making, with his leaky shoes, a
crooked line of slushy footprints in the mire; and blowing on his
chilly hands and rubbing them against each other, poorly defended from the searching cold by threadbare mufflers of grey
worsted, with a private apartment only for the thumb and a
common room or tap for the rest of the fingers; Toby, with his
knees bent and his cane beneath his arm, still trotted. Falling
out into the road to look up at the belfry when the Chimes resounded, Toby trotted still. He made this last excursion several
times a day, for they were company to him; and when he heard
their voices, he had an interest in glancing at their lodging-place,
and thinking how they were moved, and what hammers beat
upon them. Perhaps he was the more curious about these Bells,
because there were points of resemblance between themselves
and him. They hung there, in all weathers: with the wind and
rain driving in upon them: facing only the outsides of all those
houses; never getting any nearer to the blazing fires that
gleamed and shone upon the windows, or came puffing out of
the chimney tops; and incapable of participation in any of the
good things that were constantly being handed, through the street
doors and the area railings, to prodigious cooks. Faces came
and went at many windows: sometimes pretty faces, youthful
faces, pleasant faces: sometimes the reverse: but Toby knew no
more (though he often speculated on these trifles, standing idle
in the streets) whence they came, or where they went, or whether,
when the lips moved, one kind word was said of him in all the
year, than did the Chimes themselves.
Toby was not a casuist-that he knew of, at least-and I don't
mean to say that when he began to take to the Bells, and to knit




ï~~THE CHIMES.

123

up his first rough acquaintance with them into something of a
closer and more delicate woof, he passed through these considerations one by one, or held any formal review or great field-day
in his thoughts. But what I mean to say and do say is, that as the
functions of Toby's body, his digestive organs, for example, did
of their own cunning, and by a great many operations of which
he was altogether ignorant, and the knowledge of which would
have astonished him very much, arrive at a certain end; so his
mental faculties, without his privily or concurrence, set all these
wheels and springs in motion, with a thousand others, when they
worked to bring about his liking for the Bells.
And though I had said his love, I would not have recalled the
word, though it would scarcely have expressed his complicated
feeling. For, being but a simple man, he invested them with a
strange and solemn character. They were so mysterious, often
heard and never seen; so high up, so far off, so full of such a
deep strong melody, that he regarded them with a species of awe;
and sometimes when he looked up at the dark arched windows in
the tower, he half expected to be beckoned to by something which
was not a Bell, and yet was what he heard so often sounding in
the Chimes. For all this, Toby scouted with indignation a certain flying rumor that the Chimes were haunted, as implying the
possibility of their being connected with any Evil thing. In
short, they were very often in his ears, and very often in his
thoughts, but always in his good opinion; and he very often got
such a crick in his neck by staring with his mouth wide open,
at the steeple where they hung, that he was fain to take an extra
trot or two, afterwards, to cure it.
The very thing he was in the act of doing one cold day, when
the last drowsy sound of Twelve o'clock, just struck, was humming like a melodious monster of a Bee, and not by any means
a busy Bee, all through the steeple.




ï~~124

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Dinner-time, eh!" said Toby, trotting up and down bebfore
the church. "Ah!"
Toby's nose was very red, and his eyelids were very red, and
he winked very much, and his shoulders were very near his
ears, and his legs were very stiff; and altogether he was evi.
dently a long way upon the frosty side of cool.
"Dinner-time, eh!" repeated Toby, using his right harnd
muffler like an infantine boxing-glove, and punishing nis chest
for being cold. "Ah-h-h-h!"
He took a silent trot, after that, for a minute or two.
"There's nothing," said Toby, breaking forth afresh,-but
here he stopped short in hid trot, and with a face of great interest
and some alarm, felt his nose carefully all the way up. It was
but a little way: not being much of a nose: and he had soon
finished.
"I thought it was gone," said Toby, trotting off again. "It's
all right, however. I am sure I could n't blame it if it was to
go. It has a precious hard service of it in the bitter weather,
and precious little to look forward to: for I do n't take snuff myself. It 's a good deal tired, poor creetur, at the best of times;
fbr when it does get hold of a pleasant whiff or so (which an't.oo often), it's generally from somebody else's dinner, a-coming
nome from the baker's."
The reflection reminded him of that other reflection, which he
had left unfinished.
"There 's nothing," said Toby, " more regular in its coming
round than dinner-time, and nothing less regular in its coming
round than dinner. That's the great difference between 'em.
It's took me a long time to find it out. I wonder whether it
would be worth any gentleman's while, now, to buy that obser.
wation for the papers; or the Parliament!"
Toby was only joking, for he gravely shook his head in self.
lepreciation.




ï~~TIHE CHIMES.

125

" Why! Lord!" said Toby. "The papers is full of obser
wations as it is; and so's the Parliament. Here's last week's
paper, now;" taking a very dirty one from his pocket, and holding it from him at arm's length; "full of obserwations! Full
of obserwations! I like to know the news as well as any man,"
said Toby, slowly; folding it a little smaller, and putting it in
his pocket again; " but it almost goes against the grain with me
to read a paper now. It frightens me, almost. I do n't know
what we poor people are coming to. Lord send we may be
coming to something better in the New Year nigh upon us!"
"Why, father, father!" said a pleasant voice, hard by.
But Toby, not hearing it, continued to trot backwards and
forwards: musing as he went, and talking to himself.
"It seems as if we can't go right, or do right, or be righted,"
said Toby. "I had n't much schooling, myself, when I was
young; and I can't make out whether we have any business on
the face of the earth, or not. Sometimes I think we must have
a little; and sometimes I think we must be intruding. I get so
puzzled sometimes that I am not even able to make up my mind
whether there is any good at all in us; or whether we are born
bad. We seem to do dreadful things; we seem to give a deal
of trouble; we are always being complained of and guarded
against. One way or another, we fill the papers. Talk of a
New Year!" said Toby, mournfully. "I can bear up as well
as another man at most times; better than a good many, for I am
as strong as a lion, and all men an't; but supposing it should
really be that we have no right to a New Year-supposing we
really are intruding  "
" Why, father, father!" said the pleasant voice again.
Toby heard it this time; started; stopped; and shortening
his sight, which had been directed a long way off, as seeking for
enlightenment in the very heart of the approaching year, found




ï~~126

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

himself face to face with his own child, looking close into her
eyes.
Bright eyes they were. Eyes that would bear a evorld of
looking in, before their depth was fathomed. Dark eyes, that
reflected back the eyes which searched them; not flashingly, or at
the owner's will, but with a clear, calm, honest, patient radiance,
claiming kindred with that light which Heaven called into
being. Eyes that were beautiful and true, and beaming with
Hope. With Hope so young and fresh; with Hope so buoyant,
vigorous and bright, despite the twenty years of work and poverty
on which they had looked; that they became a voice to Trotty
Veck, and said: " I think we have some business here-a little!"
Trotty kissed the lips belonging to the eyes, and squeezed the
blooming face between his hands.
" Why, Pet," said Trotty. " What's to-do? I didn't expect
you to-day, Meg."
" Neither did I expect to come, father," cried the girl,
nodding her head and smiling as she spoke. "But here I am!
And not alone; not alone!"
"Why you don't mean to say," observed Trotty, looking curi.
ously at a covered basket which she carried in her hand, "that
you"Smell it, father, dear," said Meg. "Only smell it!"
Trotty was going to lift up the cover at once, in a great hurry,
when she gaily interposed her hand.
" No, no, no," said Meg, with the glee of a child. "Lengthen
it out a little. Let me just lift up the corner; just the lit-tle,
ti-ny, cor-ner, you know," said Meg, suiting the action to the
word with the utmost gentleness, and speaking very softly, as if
she were afraid of being overheard by something inside the
basket; "there. Now. What's that?"
Toby took the shortest possible sniff at the edge of the basket,
and cried out in a rapture:




ï~~THE CHIMES.

127

"Why, it's hot!"
" It's burning hot!" cried Meg. " Ha, ha, ha! It's scalding
hot!"
" Ha, ha, ha!" roared Toby with a sort of kick. "Its scalding hot."
" But what is it, father?" said Meg. "Come! You haven't
guessed what it is. And you must guess what it is. I can't
think of taking it out, till you guess what it is. Don't be in such
a hurry! Wait a minute! A little bit more of the cover. Now
guess!"
Meg was in a perfect fright lest he should guess right too soon,
shrinking away, as she held the basket towards him; curling up
her pretty shoulders; stopping her ear with her hand, as if by
so doing she could keep the right word out of Toby's lips; and
laughing softly the whole time.
Meanwhile Toby, putting a hand on each knee, bent down his
nose to the basket, and took a long inspiration at the lid; the grin
upon his withered face expanding in the process, as if he were
inhaling laughing gas.
"Ah! It's very nice," said Toby. "It an't-I suppose it an't
Polonies?"
" No, no, no!" cried Meg, delighted. "Nothing like Polo.
nies!"
"No," said Toby, after taking another sniff. "It's-it's mel
lower than Polonies. It's very nice. It improves every moment.
It's too decided for Trotters. An't it?"
Meg was in an ecstasy. He could not have gone wider of the
mark than Trotters-except Polonies.
"Liver?" said Toby, communing with himself. "No. There's
a mildness about it that don't answer to liver. Pettitoes? No,
it an't faint enough for pettitoes. It wants the stringiness of
Cock's heads. And I know it an't sausages. I'll tell you what
it is. It's chitterlings!"




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" No, it an't," cried Meg, in a burst of delight. " No, it an't!'
" Why, what am I a thinking of!" said Toby, suddenly re-,overing a position as near the perpendicular as it was possible
for him to assume. " I shall forget my own name next. -t's tripe ')
Tripe it was; and Meg, in high joy, protested he should say
min half a minute more, it was the best tripe ever stewed.
"And so," said Meg, busying herself exultingly with the
basket, " I'll lay the cloth at once, father; for I have brought
the tripe in a basin, and tied the basin up in a pocket-handker.
chief; and if I like to be proud for once, and spread that for a
cloth, and call it a cloth, there is no law to prevent me, is there;
father?"
"Not that I know of, my dear," said Toby. " But they're
always a bringing up some new law or other."
"And according to what I was reading you in the paper the
other day, father; what the Judge said, you know; we poor
people are supposed to know them all. Ha, ha! What a mistake! My goodness me, how clever they think us!"
" Yes, my dear," cried Trotty; " and they'd be very fond of
any one of us that did know 'em all. He'd grow fat upon the
work he'd get, that man, and be popular with the gentlefolks in
his neighborhood. Very much so!"
" He'd eat his dinner with an appetite, whoever he was, if it
smelt like this," said Meg cheerfully. " Make haste, for there's
a hot potatoe besides, and half a pint of fresh-drawn beer in a
bottle. Where will you dine, father? On the Post, or on the
Steps? Dear, dear, how grand we are. Two places to choose
from!"
"The steps to-day, my Pet," said Trotty. "Steps in dry
weather. Post in wet. There's greater convenieney in the
steps at all times, because of the sitting down; but they're rheu.
matic in the damp."
"Then here," said Meg, clapping her hands, after a moment's




ï~~TIIE CItIMES.

129

bustle; here it is, all ready! And beautiful it looks! Come,
father. Come!"
Since his discovery of the contents of the basket, Trotty had
been standing looking at her-and had been speaking too-in an
abstracted manner, which showed that though she was the object of
his thoughts and eyes, to the exclusion even of tripe, he neither saw
nor thought about her as she was at that moment, but had before
him some imaginary rough sketch or drama of her future life.
Roused, now, by her cheerful summons, he shook off a melancholy shake of the head which was just coming upon him, and
trotted to her side. As he was stooping to sit down, the Chimes
rang.
" Amen!" said Trotty, pulling off his hat and looking up
towards them.
"Amen to the Bells, father?" cried Meg.
" They broke io like a grace, my dear," said Trotty, taking
his seat. " They'd say a good one, I am sure, if they could.
Many's the kind thing they say to me."
" The Bells do, father!" laughed Meg, as she set the basin,
and a knife and fork before him. " Well!"
"Seem to, my Pet," said Trotty, falling to with great vigor.
"And where's the difference? If I hear 'em, what does it matter whether they speak it or not? Why bless you, my dear,"
said Toby, pointing at the tower with his fork, and becoming
more animated under the influence of dinner, "how often have I
heard them bells say, 'Toby Veck, Toby Veck, keep a good
heart, Toby! Toby Veck, Toby Veck, keep a good heart, Toby!'
A million times? More!"
" Well, I never!" cried Meg.
She had, though-over and over again. For it was Toby's
constant topic.
" When things is very bad," said Trotty; "very bad indeed,
I mean; almost at the worst; then it is, 'Toby Veck, Toby




ï~~130

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

V ecK, job coming soon, Toby! Toby Veck, Toby Veck, job
coming soon, Toby!' that way."
"And it comes-at last, father," said Meg, with a *ouch of
sadness in her pleasant voice.
" Always," answered the unconscious Toby. "Never fails."
While this discourse was holding, Trotty made no pause in his
attack upon the savory meat before him, but cut and ate, and cut
and drank, and cut and chewed, and dodged about, from tripe to
hot potato, and from hot potato back again to tripe, with an unctuous and unflagging relish.  But happening now to look all
round the street-in case anybody should be beckoning from any
door or window for a porter-his eyes, in coming back again,
encountered Meg: sitting opposite to him, with her arms folded
and only busy in watching his progress with a smile of happiness.
" Why, Lord forgive me!" said Trotty, dropping his knife
and fork. "My dove! Meg! why didn't you tell me what a
beast I was?"
"Father?"
"Sitting here," said Trotty, in penitent explanation, " cramming, and stuffing, and gorging myself; and you before me there,
never so much as breaking your precious fast, nor wanting to,
when ""But I have broken it, father," interposed his daughter, laughing, "all to bits. I have had my dinner."
"Nonsense," said Trotty. "Two dinners in one day! It an't
possible! You might as well tell me that two New Year's Days
will come together, or that I have had a gold head all my life,
and never changed it."
"I have had my dinner, father, for all that," said Meg, coming
nearer to him.  "And if you will go on with yours, I'll tell
you how and where; and how your dinner came to be brought;
and-and something else besides."
Toby still appeared incredulous; but she looked into his face




ï~~THE CHIMES.

131

with her clear eyes, and laying her hand upon his shoulder
motioned him to go on while the meat was hot. So Trotty took
up his knife and fork again, and went to work. But much more
slowly than before, and shaking his head, as if he were not at all
pleased with himself.
"I had my dinner, father," said Meg, after a little hesitation,
"with-with Richard. His dinner-time was early; and as he
brought his dinner with him when he came to see me, we-we
had it together, father."
Trotty took a little beer and smacked his lips. Then he said,
"Oh!"-because she waited.
"And Richard says, father-" Meg resumed. Then stopped.
"What does Richard say, Meg?" asked Toby.
"Richard says, father-"  Another stoppage.
"Richard's a long time saying it," said Toby.
"He says then, father," Meg continued, lifting up her eyes at
last, and speaking in a tremble, but quite plainly; "another year
is nearly gone, and where is the use of waiting on from year to
year, when it is so unlikely we shall ever be better off than
we are now? He says we are poor now, father, and we shall be
poor then; but we are young now, and years will make us old
before we know it. Ile says that if we wait: people in our condition: until we see our way quite clearly, the way will be a
narrow one indeed-the common way-the grave, father."
A bolder man than Trotty Veck must needs have drawn upon
his boldness largely, to deny it. Trotty held his peace.
SAnd how hard, father, to grow old, and die, and think we.night have cheered and helped each other! How hard in all
our lives to love each other; and to grieve, apart, to see each
other working, changing, growing old and grey. Even if I got
the better of it, and forgot him (which I never could), oh father
dear, how hard to have a heart so full as mine is now, and live
to have is slowly drained out every drop, without the recollection




ï~~182

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

of one happy moment of a woman's life, to stay behind and com.
fort me, and make me better!"
Trotty sat quite still. Meg dried her eyes, and said more
gaily: that is to say, with here a laugh and there a sob, and here
a laugh and sob together:
"So Richard says, father; as his work was yesterday made
certain for some time to come, and as I love him and have loved
him full three years-ah! longer than that, if he knew it!-will
I marry him on New Year's Day; the best and happiest day, he
says, in the whole year, and one that is almost sure to bring good
fortune with it.  It's a short notice, father-isn't it?-but I
haven't my fortune to be settled, or my wedding dresses to be
made, like the great ladies, father-have I? And he said so
much, and said it in his way; so strong and earnest, and all the
time so kind and gentle; that I said I'd come and talk to you,
father. And as they paid the money for that work of mine this
morning (unexpectedly, I am sure!), and as you have fared very
poorly for a whole week, and as I couldn't help wishing there
should be something to make this day a sort of holiday to you, as
well as a dear and happy day to me, father, I made a little treat
and brought it to surprise you."
" And see how he leaves it cooling on the step!" said another
voice.
It was the voice of this same Richard, who had come upon them
unobserved, and stood before the father and daughter: looking
down upon them with a face as glowing as the iron on which his
stout sledge-hammer daily rung. A handsome, well-made, powerful youngster,he was; with eyes that sparkled like the red-hot
droppings from a furnace fire; black hair that curled about his
swarthy temples rarely; and a smile-a smile that bore out
Meg's eulogium on his style of conversation.
"See how he leaves it cooling on the step!" said Richard.
" Meg don't know what he likes. Not she!"




ï~~THE CHIMES.

133

Trotty, all action and enthusiasm, immediately reached up his
nand to Richard, and was going to address him in a great hurry,
when the house-door opened without any warning, and a footman
very nearly put his foot in the tripe.
" Out of the vays here, will you! You must always go and b
a settin on our step, must you! You can't go and give a turn
to none of the neighbors never, can't you! Wilt you clear the
road or won't you?"
Strictly speaking, the last question was irrelevant, as they had
already done it.
" What's the matter, what's the matter!" said the gentleman
for whom the door was opened: coming out of the house at that
kind of light-heavy pace-that peculiar compromise between a
walk and a jog-trot-with which a gentleman upon the smooth
down-hill of life, wearing creaking boots, a watch-chain, and
clean linen, may come out of his house: not only without any
abatement of his dignity, but with an expression of having important and wealthy engagements elsewhere. "What's the matter!
What's the matter!"
"You 're always a being begged, and prayed, upon your
bended knees you are," said the footman with great emphasis tG
Trotty Veck, "to let our door-steps be. Why don't you let 'emr
be? CAN'T you let 'em be?"
"There! That'll do, that'll do!" said the gentleman. "Halloa there! Porter!" beckoning with his head to Trotty Veck.
"Come here. What's that? Your dinner?"
"Yes, sir," said Trotty, leaving it behind him in a corner.
"Don't leave it there," exclaimed the gentleman. " Bring it
nere, bring it here. So! This is your dinner, is if?"
"Yes, sir," repeated Trotty, looking with a fixed eye, and a
watery mouth, at the piece of tripe hle had reserved for a last
delicious tit-bit; which the gentleman was now turning over and
over on the end of the fork.
Two other gentlemen had comne out with him   On was a




ï~~134

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

low-spirited gentleman of middle age, of a meagre habit, and a
disconsolate face; who kept his hands continually in the pockets
of his scanty pepper-and-salt trousers, very large and dog's-eared
from that custom; and was not particularly well brushed or
washed. The other, a full-sized, sleek, well-conditioned genleman, in a blue coat with bright buttons, and a white cravat.
This gentleman had a very red face, as if an undue proportion
of the blood in his body was squeezed up into his head; which
perhaps accounted for his having also the appearance of being
rather cold about the heart.
He who had Toby's meat upon the fork, called to the first one
by the name of Filer; and they both drew near together. Mr.
Filer being exceedingly short-sighted, was obliged to go so close
to the remnant of Toby's dinner before he could make out what
it was, that Toby's heart leaped up into his mouth. But Mr.
Filer didn't eat it.
" This is a description of animal food, Alderman," said Filer,
making little punches in it, with a pencil-case, "commonly
known to the laboring population of this country, by the name of
tripe."
The Alderman laughed, and winked; for he was a merry fellow, Alderman Cute. Oh, and a sly fellow, too! A knowing
fellow. Up to everything. Not to be imposed upon. Deep in
the people's hearts! He knew them, Cute did. I believe you!
" But who eats tripe?" said Mr. Filer, looking round. "Tripe
is, without an exception, the least economical, and the most
wasteful article of consumption that the markets of this country
can by possibility produce. The loss upon a pound of tripe has
been found to be, in the boiling, seven-eighths of a fifth more than
the loss upon a pound of any other animal substance whatever.
Tripe is more expensive, properly understood, than the hot-house
pine-apple. Taking into account the number of animals slaugh.
tered yearly within the bills of mortality alone; and forming a




ï~~THIE CIIMES.

135

low estimate of the quantity of tripe wnicn tne carcasses of those
animals, reasonably well butchered, would yield; I find that the
waste on that amount of tripe, if boiled, would victual a garrison
of five hundred men for five months, of thirty-one days each, and
a February over. The waste, the waste!"
Trotty stood aghast, and his legs shook under him. He
seemed to have starved a garrison of five hundred men with his
own hand.
" Who eats tripe?" said Mr. Filer, warmly. " Who eats
tripe?"
Trotty made a miserable bow
"You do, do you?" said Mr. Filer. "Then I'll tell you
something. You snatch your tripe, my friend, out of the mouths
of widows and orphans."
" I hope not, Sir," said Trotty, ihintly. "I'd sooner die of
want!"
" Divide the amount of tripe before-mentioned, Alderman,"
said Mr. Filer, " by the estimated number of existing widows
and orphans, and the result will be one pennyweight of tripe to
each. Not a grain is left for that man. Consequently, he's a
robber."
Trotty was so shocked, that it gave him no concern to see the
Alderman finish the tripe himself. It was a relief to get rid of
it, anyhow.
" And what do you say?" asked the Alderman, jocosely, of
the red-faced gentleman in the blue coat. "You have heard
friend Filer. What do you say?"
" What's it possible to say?"  returned the gentleman.
" What is to be said? Who can take any interest in a fellow
like this," meaning Trotty; "in such degenerate times as these.
Look at him! What an object! The good old times, the grand
old times, the great old times! Those were the times for a bold
peasantry, and all that sort of thing. Those were the times for




ï~~136

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

every sort of thing, in fact. There's nothing now-a-days. Ah!"
sighed the red-faced gentleman. "The good old times, the good
old times!"
The gentleman didn't specify what particular times he alluded
to; nor did he say whether he objected to the present times, from
a disinterested consciousness that they had done nothing very
remarkable in producing himself.
" The good old times, the good old times," repeated the gentleman. "1 What times they were! They were the only times.
It 's of no use talking about any other times, or discussing what
the people are in these times. You don't call these, times, do
you? I don't. Look into Strutt's Costumes, and see what a
Porter used to be, in any of the good old English reigns."
"He hadn't, in his very best circumstances, a shirt to his back,
or a stocking to his foot; and there was scarcely a vegetable in
all England for him to put into his mouth," said Mr. Filer. " I
can prove it, by tables."
But still the red-faced gentleman extolled the good old times,
the grand old times, the great old times. No matter what anybody else said, he still went turning round and round in one set
form of words concerning them; as a poor squirrel turns and
turns in its revolving cage; touching the mechanism, and +rick
of which, it has probably quite as distinct perceptions, as ever this
red-faced gentleman had of his deceased Millennium.
It is possible that poor old Trotty's faith in these very vague
Old Times was not entirely destroyed, for he felt vague enough,
at that moment. One thing, however, was plain to him, in the
midst of his distress; to wit, that however these gentlemen might
differ in details, his misgivings of that morning, and of many
other mornings, were well founded. "No, no. We can't go
right or do right," thought Trotty, in despair. " There is no
good in us. We are born bad!
But Trotty had a father's heart within him; which had some




ï~~TILE CHIMES.

107

how got into his breast in spite of this decree; and he could no
bear that Meg, in the blush of her brief joy, should have her
fortune read by these wise gentlemen. " God help her," thought
poor Trotty. " She will know it soon enough."
lIe anxiously signed, therefore, to the young smith, to take he:
away. But he was so busy, talking to her softly at a little distance, that he only became conscious of this desire, simultaneously with Alderman Cute. Now, the Alderman had not yet had
his say, but he was a philosopher, too-practical, though! Oh,
very practical!-and, as he had no idea of losing any portion of
his audience, he cried " Stop!"
"Now you know," said the Alderman, addressing his two
friends, with a self-complacent smile upon his face, which was
habitual to him, " I am a plain man, and a practical man; and I
go to work in a plain practical way. That's my way. There
is not the least mystery or difficulty in dealing with this sort of
people if you only understand 'em, and can talk to 'em in their
own manner. Now, you Porter! Don't you ever tell me, or
anybody else, my friend, that you haven't always enough to eat,
and of the best; because I know better. I have tasted your
tripe, you know, and you can't ' chaff' me. You understand
what ' chaff' means, eh? That 's the right word, isn't it? Ha,
ha, ha! Lord bless you," said the Alderman, turning to hie
friends again, " it's the easiest thing on earth to deal with this sort
of people, if you only understand 'em."
Famous man for the common people, Alderman Cute! Nevez
out of temper with them! Easy, affable, joking,,nowing gentleman!
"You see, my friend," pursued the Alderman, " there's a
great deal of nonsense talked about Want-' hard up,' you know:
that's the phrase, isn't it? ha! ha! ha!-and I intend to Put it
Down. There's a certain amount of cant in vogue about Starvation, and I mean to Put it Down. That 's all! Lord bless




ï~~138

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

you," said the Alderman, turn:ng to his friends again, "you may
Put Down anything among this sort of people, if you only know
the way to set about it!"
Trotty took Meg's hand and drew it through his arm. He
didn't seem to know what he was doing though.
" Your daughter, eh?" said the Alderman, chucking her familiarly under the chin.
Always affable with the working classes, Alderman Cute.
Knew what pleased them! Not a bit of pride!
"Where's her mother?" asked that worthy gentleman.
"Dead," said Toby. "Her mother got up linen; and was
called to heaven when she was born."
" Not to get up linen there, I suppose," remarked the Alder.
man pleasantly.
Toby might or might not have been able to separate his wife
in Heaven from her old pursuits. But query: If Mrs. Alderman
Cute had gone to heaven, would Mr. Alderman Cute have pictured
her as holding any state or station there?
"And you're making love to her, are you?" said Cute to the
young smith.
" Yes," returned Richard quickly, for he was nettled by the
question. "And we are going to be married on New-Year's day."
"What do you mean?" cried Filer sharply. " Married!"
"Why, yes, we're thinking of it, Master," said Richard.
" We're rather in a hurry, you see, in case it should be Put
Down first."
"Ah!" cried Filer, with a groan. "Put that down, indeed,
Alderman, and you'll do something. Married! Married!! The
ignorance of the first principles of political economy on the part
of these people; their improvidence; their wickedness; is, by
Heavens! enough to-Now look at that couple, will you!"
Well! They were worth looking at. And marriage seemed
as reasonable and fair a deed as they need have in contemplation.




ï~~TIHE CHIMES

139

"A man may live to be as old as Methusaleh," said Mr. Filer,
"and may labor all his life for the benefit of such people as those;
and may heap up facts on figures, facts on figures, facts on figures,
mountains high and dry; and he can no more hope to persuade
'em that they have no right or business to be married, than he can
hope to persuade 'em that they have no earthly right or business
to be born. And that we know they haven't. We reduced it to
a mathematical certainty long ago."
Alderman Cute was already diverted, and laid his right forefinger on the side of his nose, as much as to say to both his friends,
" Observe me, will you? Keep your eye on the practical man I"
-and called Meg to him.
" Come here, my girl!" said Alderman Cute.
The young blood of her lover had been mounting, wrathfully,
within the last few minutes; and he was indisposed to let her
come. But setting a constraint upon himself, he camne forward
with a stride as Meg approached, and stood beside her. Trotty
kept her hand within his arm still, but looked from face to face, as
wildly as a sleeper in a dream.
" Now I'm going to give you a word or two of good advice, my
girl," said the Alderman, in his nice easy way. " It's my place
to give advice, you know, because I'm a Justice. You know I'm
a Justice, don't you?"
Meg timidly said, " Yes."  But everybody knew Alderman
Cute was a Justice! Oh dear, so active a Justice always! Who
such a mote of brightness in the public eye, as Cute!
"You are going to be married, you say," pursued the Alderman.   "Very unbecoming and indelicate in one of your sex!
But never mind that. After you are married, you'll quarrel with
your husband, and come to be a distressed wife. You may think
not: but you will, because I tell you so. Now I give you fair
warning, that I have made up my mind to Put distressed wives
Down. So don't be brooght before me. You'll have children



ï~~140

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

boys. Those boys will grow up bad, of course, and run wild in
the streets, without shoes and stockings. Mind, my young friend!
I'll convict 'em summarily, every one, for I am determined to
Put boys without shoes and stockings, Down. Perhaps your husband will die young (most likely), and leave you with a baby.
'lThen you '11 be turned out of doors, and wander up and down the
streets. Now don't wander near me, my dear, for I am resolved
to Put all wandering mothers Down. All young mothers, of all
sorts and kinds, it's my determination to Put Down. Don't think
to plead illness as an excuse with me; or babies as an excuse
with me; for all sick persons and young children (I hope you
know the church service, but I'm afraid not) I am determined to
Put Down. And if you attempt, desperately, and ungratefully,
and impiously, and fraudulently attempt, to drown yourself, or
hang yourself, I'll have no pity on you, for I have made up my
mind to Put all suicide Down. If there is one thing," said the
Alderman, with his self-satisfied smile, " on which I can be said
to have made up my mind more than on another, it is to Put suicide Down. So don't try it on.  That's the phrase, isn't it!
IHla, ha! now we understand each other."
Toby knew not whether to be agonized or glad to see that Meg
had turned a deadly white, and dropped her lover's hand.
" As for you, you dull dog," said the Alderman, turning with
even increased cheerfulness and urbanity to the young smith,
"what are you thinking of being married for? What do you want
to be married for, you silly fellow? If I was a fine, young,
strapping chap like you, I should be ashamed of being milksop
enough to pin myself to a woman's apron-strings!  Why, she'll
be an old woman before you 're a middle-aged man! And a
pretty figure you'll cut then, with a draggle-tailed wife and a
crowd of squalling children crying after you wherever you go!"
Oh, he knew how to banter the common people, Alderman
Cute!




ï~~TIHE CHIMES.

141

"There! Go along with you," said the Alderman, "and repent. Don't make such a fool of yourself as to get married on
New-Year's Day. You'll think very differently of it long before
next New-Year's Day: a trim young fellow like you, with all the
girls looking after you. There! Go along with you!"
They went along. Not arm in arm, or hand in hand, or inter.
changing bright glances: but she in tears, he gloomy and downlooking. Were these the hearts that had so lately made old Toby's
leap up from its faintness! No, no. The Alderman (a blessing
on his head!) had Put them Down.
"As you happen to be here," said the Alderman to Toby, "you
shall carry a letter for me. Can you be quick? You're an old
man."
Toby, who had been looking after Meg quite stupidly, made
shift to murmur out that lie was very quick, and very strong.
" How old are you?" inquired the Alderman.
"I 'm over sixty, Sir," said Toby.
" Oh! This man 's a great deal past the average age, you know,"
cried Mr. Filer, breaking in, as if his patience would bear some
trying, but this really was carrying matters a little too far.
"I feel I 'm intruding, Sir," said Toby. " I-I misdoubted it
this morning. Oh dear me!"
The Alderman cut him short by giving him the letter from his
pocket. Toby would have got a shilling too; but Mr. Filer
clearly showing that in that case he would rob a certain given
number of persons of ninepence-halfpenny a-piece, he only got
sixpence; and thought himself very well off to get that.
Then the Alderman gave an arm to each of his friends, and
walked off in high feather; but immediately came hurrying back
alone, as if he had forgotten something.
" Porter!" said the Alderman.
" Sir!" said Toby.




ï~~142

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Take care of tnat daughter of yours. She's much too handsome."
"Even her good looks are stolen from somebody or other, I suppose," thought Toby, looking at the sixpence in his hand, and
thinking of the tripe. "She's been and robbed five hundred
ladies of a bloom apiece, I shouldn't wonder. It's very dread.
ful!"
" She's much too handsome, my man," repeated the Alderman.
"The chances are, that she'll come to no good, I clearly see.
Observe what I say. Take care of her!" With which, he hur.
ried off again.
"Wrong every way. Wrong every way!" said Trotty, clasp.
ing his hands. "Born bad. No business here!"
The Chimes came clashing in upon him as he said the words.
Full, loud, and sounding-but with no encouragement. No, not
a drop.
" The tune's changed," cried the old man, as he listened.
"There 's not a word of all that fancy in it. Why should there
be? I have no business with the New-Year nor with the old one
neither. Let me die!"
Still the bells, pealing forth their changes, made the very air
spin. Put 'em down, Put 'em down! Good old times, Good old
Times! Facts and figures, Facts and figures! Put 'em dowvn,
Put 'em down! If they said anything they said this, till the
brain of Toby reeled.
He pressed his bewildered head between his hands, as if to
keep it from splitting asunder. A well-timed action, as it happened; for finding the letter in one of them, and being by that
means reminded of his charge, he fell, mechanically, into his
usual trot, and trotted off.




ï~~THE SECOND QUARTER
TE letter Toby had received from Alderman Cute, was ad
dressed to a great mnan in the great district of the town. The
greatest district of the town. It must have been the greatest
district of the town, because it was commonly called The World
by its inhabitants.
The letter positively seemed heavier in Toby's hand than
another letter. Not because the Alderman had sealed it with a
very large coat of arms and no end of wax, but because of the
weighty name on the superscription, and the ponderous amount
of gold and silver with which it was associated.
"How different from us!" thought Toby, in all simplicity
and earnestness, as he looked at the direction.  "Divide the
lively turtles in the bills of mortality, by the number of gentlefolks able to buy 'emr; and whose share does he take but his
own! As to snatching tripe from anybody's mouth-he'd scorn
it!"
With the involuntary homage due to such an exalted character, Toby interposed a corner of his apron between the letter and
his fingers.
" His children," said Trotty, and a mist rose before his eyes:
"his daughters-Gentlemen may win heir hearts and marry
them; they may be happy wives and mothers; they may be
handsome like my darling M-e-"
He cculdn't finish her name. The final letter swelled in his
hroa t to the size of the whole alphabet.      143
143




ï~~144

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Never mind," thought Trotty.  " I know what 1 mean.
That's more than enough for me."  And with this consolatory
rumination, trotted on.
It was a hard frost, that day. The air was bracing, crisp, anr
clear. The wintry sun, though powerless for warmth, looked
brightly down upon the ice it was too weak to melt, and set a
radiant glory there. At other times, Trotty might have learned
a poor man's lesson from the wintry sun; but he was past that,
now.
The Year was Old that day. The patient Year had lived
through the reproaches and misuses of its slanderers, and faithfully performed its work. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. It
had labored through the destined round, and now laid down its
weary head to die. Shut out from hope, high impulse, active
happiness, itself, but messenger of many joys to others, it made
appeal in its decline to have its toiling days and patient hours
remembered, and to die in peace. Trotty might have read a poor
man's allegory in the fading year; but he was past that now.
And only he? Or has the like appeal been ever made, by
seventy years at once upon an English laborer's head, and made
in vain!
The streets were full of motion, and the shops were decked
out gaily. The New Year, like an infant Heir to the whole
world, was waited for, with welcomes, presents, and rejoicings.
There were books and toys for the New Year, glittering trinkets
for the New Year, dresses for the New Year, schemes of fortune
for the New Year; new inventions to beguile it. Its life was
parcelled out in almanacks and pocket-books; the coming of its
moons, and stars, and tides, was known beforehand to the moment; all the workings of its seasons in fheir days and nights;
were calculated with as much precision as Mr. Filer could work
sums in men and women
The New Year, the New Year. Everywhere the New Year




ï~~THE CHIMES.

145

The Old Year was already looked upon as dead; and its effects
were selling cheap like some drowned mariner's aboard ship. Its
patterns were Last Year's and going at a sacrifice, before its
breath was gone. Its treasures were mere dirt. beside the riches
of its unborn successor!
Trotty had no portion, to his thinking, in the New Year or the
Old.
" Put 'em down, Put 'em down, Facts and figures, Facts and
figures, good Old Times, good Old Times. Put 'em down, Put
'em down"-his trot went to that measure, and would fit itself to
nothing else.
But even that one, melancholy as it was, brought him in due
time to the end of his journey. To the mansion of Sir Joseph
Bowley, Member of Parliament.
The door was opened by a Porter. Such a Porter! Not of
Toby's order. Quite another thing. His place was the ticket
though; not Toby's.
This Porter underwent some hard panting before he could
speak; having breathed himself by comrning incautiously out of
his chair, without first taking time to think about it, and compose
his mind. When he had found his voice-which it took him
some time to do, for it was a long way off, and hidden under a
load of meat-he said in a fat whisper,
" Who's it from?"
Toby told him.
"You're to take it in, yourself," said the Porter, pointing to a
room at the end of a long passage, opening from the hall.
" Everything goes straight in, on this day of the year. You 're
not a bit too soon, for the carriage is at the door now, and they
have only come to town for a couple of hours, a' purpose."
Toby wiped his feet (which were quite dry already) with great
care, and took the way pointed out to him; observing as he went
that it was an awfully grand house, but hushed and covered up,
9




ï~~146

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

as if the fami.y were in the country. Knocking at the room
door, he was told to enter from within; and doing so found him.
self in a spacious library, where, at a table strewn with files
and papers, were a stately lady in a bonnet; and not a very
etately gentleman in black who wrote from her dictation; while
another, and an older, and a much statelier gentleman, whose
hat and cane were on the table, walked up and down, with one
hand in his breast, and looked complacently from time to time at
his own picture-a full length; a very full length-hanging over
the fire-place.
"What is this?" said the last-named gentleman. " Mr. Fish,
will you have the goodness to attend?"
Mr. Fish begged pardon, and taking the letter from Toby,
handed it, with great respect.
"From Alderman Cute, Sir Joseph."
" Is this all? Have you nothing else, Porter?" inquired Sir
Joseph.
Toby replied in the negative.
" You have no bill or demand upon me; my name is Bowley,
Sir Joseph Bowley; of any kind, from anybody, have you?"
said Sir Joseph. " If you have, present it. There is a chequebook by the side of Mr. Fish. I allow nothing to be carried into
the New Year. Every description of account is settled, in this
house at the close of the old one. So that if death was to-to-"
"To cut," suggested Mr. Fish.
" To sever, Sir," retorted Sir Joseph, With great asperity, "the
cord of existence-my affairs would be found, I hope, in a state
of preparation."
" My dear Sir Joseph!" said the lady, who was greatly younger
than the gentleman. " How shocking!"
" My Lady Bowley," returned Sir Joseph, floundering now and
then, as in the great depth of his observations, " at this season of
the year we should think of-of-ourselves. We should look




ï~~THE CHIMES

147

into our-our accounts. We should feel that every return of so
eventful a period in human transactions, involves matters of deep
moment between a man and his-and his banker."
Sir Joseph delivered these words as if he felt the full morality
of what he was saying; and desired that even Trotty should
have an opportunity of being improved by such discourse. Possibly he had this end before him in still forbearing to break the
seal of the letter, and in telling Trotty to wait where he was, a
minute.
" You were desiring Mr. Fish to say, my lady-" observed
Sir Joseph.
" Mr. Fish has said that, I believe," returned his lady, glancing at the letter. " But, upon my word, Sir Joseph, I don't
think I can let it go after all. It is so very dear."
" What is dear?" inquired Sir Joseph.
"That Charity, my love. They only allow two votes for
a subscription of five pounds. Really monstrous!"
" My Lady Bowley," returned Sir Joseph, " you surprise me.
Is the luxury of feeling in proportion to the number of votes; or
is it, to a rightly-constituted mind, in proportion to the number ot
applicants, and the wholesome state of mind to which their canvassing reduces them? Is there no excitement of the purest kind
in having two votes to dispose of among fifty people?"
"Not to me, I acknowledge," returned the lady. " It bores
me. Besides, one can't oblige one's acquaintance. But you
are the Poor Man's Friend, you know, Sir Joseph. You think
otherwise."
" I am the Poor Man's Friend," observed Sir Joseph, glancing
at the poor man present. "As such I may be taunted. As such
I have been taunted. But I ask no other title."
"Bless him for a noble gentleman!" thought Trotty.
"I don't agree with Cute here, for instance," said Sir Joseph,
holding out the letter. "I don't agree with the Filer party. I




ï~~148

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

don't agree  ith any party. My friend, the Poor Man, has ni
business with anything of that sort, and nothing of that sort has
any business with him. My friend, the Poor Man, in my district, is my business. No man or body otf men has any right to
interfere between my friend and me. That is the ground I take.
I assume a-a paternal character towards my friend. I say,
'My good fellow, 1 will treat you paternally.' "
Toby listened with great gravity, and began to feel more comfortable.
"Your only business, my good fellow," pursued Sir Joseph,
looking abstractedly at Toby; "your only business in life is
with me. You needn't trouble yourself to think about anything.
I will think for you; I know what is good for you; I am your
perpetual parent. Such is the dispensation of an all-wise Providence! Now, the design of your creation is: not that you
should swill, and guzzle, and associate your enjoyments, brutally,
with food"-Toby thought remorselessly of the tripe-" but that
you should feel the Dignity of Labor; go forth erect into the
cheerful morning air, and-and stop there. Live hard and temperately, be respectful, exercise your self-denial, bring up your
family on next to nothing, pay your rent as regularly as the clock
strikes, be punctual in your dealings (I set you a good example;
you will find Mr. Fish, rmy confidential secretary, with a cashbox before him at all times); and you may trust me to be your
Friend and Father."
" Nice children, indeed, Sir Joseph!" said the lady, with a
shudder. " Rheumatisms, and fevers, and crooked legs, and asthmas, and all kinds of horrors!"
" My Lady," returned Sir Joseph, with solemnity, " not the less
am I the Poor Man's Friend and Father. Not the less shall he
receive encouragement at my hands. Every quarter-day he will
be put in communication with Mr. Fish. Every New-Year's
Day, myself and friends will drink his health. Once every year,




ï~~T1LE CHi31iMES.

149

myself and friends will address him with the deepest feeling.
Once in his life, he may even, perhaps, receive-in public, in
the presence of the gentry-a Trifle from a Friend. And when,
upheld no more by these stimulants, and the Dignity of Labor,
he sinks into his comfortable grave, then, my Lady"-here Sir
Joseph blew his nose-" I will be a Friend and Father-on the
same terms-to his children."
Toby was greatly moved.
" Oh! you have a thankful family, Sir Joseph!" cried his
wife.
" My Lady," said Sir Joseph, quite majestically, " Ingratitude
is known to be the sin of that class. I expect no other return."
" Ah! born bad!" thought Toby. " Nothing melts us!"
"What man can do, I do," pursued Sir Joseph. " I do my
duty as the Poor Man's Friend and Father; and I endeavor to
educate his mind, by inculcating on all occasions the one great
moral lesson which that class requires. That is, entire Dependence on myself. They have no business whatever with-with
themselves. If wicked and designing persons tell them otherwise,
and they become impatient and discontented, and are guilty of
insubordinate conduct and black-hearted ingratitude (which is
undoubtedly the case), I am their Friend and Father still. It is
so ordained. It is in the nature of things."
With that great sentiment, he opened the Alderman's letter,
and read it.
" Very polite and attentive, I am sure!" exclaimed Sir Joseph.
" My Lady, the Alderman is so obliging as to remind me that he
has had ' the distinguished honor'-he is very good-of meeting
me at the house of our mutual friend Deedles, the banker; and
he does me the favor to inquire whether it will be agreeable to
me to have Will Fern put down."
"Most agreeable!" replied my Lady Bowley. "The worst
man among them! He has been committing a robbery, I hope?"




ï~~150

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Why, no," said Sir Joseph, referring to the letter. " Not
quite. Very near. Not quite.    He came up to London, it
seems, to look for employment (trying to better himself-that's
his story), and being found at night asleep in a shed, was taken
into custody and carried next morning before the Alderman.
The Alderman observes (very properly) that he is determined to
put this sort of thing down; and that if it will be agreeable to
me to have Will Fern put down, he will be happy to begin with
hin."
" Let him be made an example of. by all means," returned
the lady. " Last winter, when I introduced pinking and eyeletholeing among the men and boys in the village, as a nice evening
emoloyment, and had the lines,
Oh let us love our occupations,
Bless the squire and his relations,
Live upon our daily rations,
And always know our proper stations,
set to music on the new system, for them to sing the while, this
very Fern-I see him now-touched that hat of his, and said, "I
humbly ask your pardon, my lady, but an't I something different
from a great girl?' I expected it, of course; who can expect
anything but insolence and ingratitude from that class of people?
That is not to the purpose, however. Sir Joseph! Make an example of him!"
" Hem!" coughed Sir Joseph. "Mr. Fish, if you'll have the
goodness to attend"Mr. Fish immediately seized his pen, and wrote from Sir
Joseph's dictation.
" Private. My dear Sir: I am very much indebted to you for
your courtesy in the matter of the man William Fern, of whom,
I regret to add, I can say nothing favorable. I have uniformly
considered myself in the light of his Fr.end and Father, but have




ï~~THE CHIMES.

151

been repaid (a common case, I grieve to say) with ingratitude,
and constant opposition to my plans. He is a turbulent and re.
bellious spirit. His character will not bear investigation. Nothing will persuade him to be happy when he might. Under these
circumstances, it appears to me, I own, that when he comes before you again (as you inform me he promised to do to-morrow,
pending your inquiries, and I think he may be so far relied upon),
his committal for some short time as a vagabond would be a service to society, and would be a salutary example in a country
where-for the sake of those who are, through good and evil report, the Friends and Fathers of the Poor, as well as with a view
to that, generally speaking, misguided class themselves-exampies are greatly needed. And I am," and so forth.
"It appears," remarked Sir Joseph when he had signed this
letter, and Mr. Fish was sealing it, " as if this were Ordained:
really. At the close of the year, I wind up my account and
strike my balance, even with William Fern!"
Trotty, who had long ago relapsed, and was very low-spirited,
stepped forward with a rueful face to take the letter.
"With my compliments and thanks," said Sir Joseph. "Stop!"
"Stop!" echoed Mr. Fish.
"You have heard, perhaps," said Sir Joseph, oracularly,
"certain remarks into which I have been led respecting the
solemn period of time at which we have arrived, and the duty
imposed upon us of settling our affairs, and being prepared.
You have observed that I don't shelter myself behind my superior standing in society, but that Mr. Fish-that gentleman-has
a cheque-book at his elbow, and is in fact here, to enable me
turn over a perfectly new leaf, and enter on the epoch before u.
with a clean account. Now, my friend, can you lay your hand
upon your heart, and say, that you also have made preparation
for a New Year?"




ï~~152

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" I am afraid, Sir," stammered Trotty, looking meekly at him,
"that 1 am a-a-little behind-hand with the world."
" Behind-hand with the world!" repeated Sir Joseph Bowley
in a tone of terrible distinctness.
" I am afraid, Sir," faltered Trotty, "that there's a matter of
ten or twelve shillings owing to Mrs. Chickenstalker."
" To Mrs. Chickenstalker!" repeated Sir Joseph, in the same
tone as before.
" A shop, Sir," exclaimed Toby, " in the general line. Also
a-a little money on account of rent. A very little Sir. It
oughtn't to be owing, I know, but we have been hard put to it,
indeed!"
Sir Joseph looked at his lady, and at Mr. Fish, and at Trotty,
one after another, twice all round. He then made a despondent
gesture with both hands at once, as if he gave the thing up altogether.
"How a man, even among this improvident and impracticable
race; an old man; a man grown grey; can look a New Year
in the face, with his affairs in this condition; how he can lie down
on his bed at night, and get up again in the morning, andThere!" he said, turning his back on Trotty. "Take the letter
Take the letter."
" I heartily wish it was otherwise, sir," said Trotty, anxious to
excuse himself. " We have been tried very hard."
Sir Joseph still repeating " Take the letter, take the letter!"
and Mr. Fish not only saying the same thing, but giving additional force to the request by motioning the bearer to the door,
he had nothing for it but to make his bow and leave the house.
And in the street, poor Trotty pulled his worn old hat down on
his head, to hide the grief he felt at getting no hold on the New
Year, anywhere.
He didn't even lift his hat to look up at the Bell tower when
ne came to the old church on his return. He halted there a




ï~~THE CHIMES.

153

moment, from habit: and knew that it was growing dark, and
that the steeple rose above him, indistinct and faint, in the murky
air. He knew, too, that the Chimes would ring immediately;
and that they sounded to his fancy, at such a time, like voices in
the clouds. But he only made the more haste to deliver the
Alderman's letter, and get out of the way before they began;
for he dreaded to hear them tagging "Friends and Fathers,
Friends and Fathers," to the burden they had rung out last.
Toby discharged himself of his commission, therefore, with all
possible speed, and set off trotting homeward. But what with his
pace, which was at best an awkward one in the street; and what
with his hat, which didn't improve it; he trotted against somebody in less than no time, and was sent staggering out into the
road.
" I beg your pardon, I am sure!" said Trotty, pulling up his
hat in great confusion, and between the hat and the torn lining,
fixing his head into a kind of bee-hive. "I hope I haven't hurt
you."
As to hurting anybody, Toby was not such an absolute Samson, but that he was much more likely to be hurt himself: and
indeed, he had flown out into the road, like a shuttlecock. He
had such an opinion of his own strength, however, that he was
in real concern for the other party: and said again,
" I hope I haven't hurt you?"
The man against whom he had run; a sun-browned, sinewy,
country-looking man, with grizzled hair, and a rough chin;
stared at him for a moment, as if he suspected him to be in jest
But satisfied of his good faith, he answered:
" No, friend. You have not hurt me."
" Nor the child, I hope?" said Trotty.
" Nor the child," returned the man. " I thank you kindly."
As he said so, he glanced at a little girl he carried in his arms,




ï~~154

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

asleep; and shading her face with the long end of the poor hand.
kerchief he wore about his throat, went slowly on.
The tone in which he said " I thank you kindly," penetrated
Toby's heart. He was so jaded and foot-sore, and so soiled with
travel, and looked about him so forlorn and strange, that it was
a comfort to him to be able to thank any one: no matter for how
little. Toby stood gazing after him as he plodded wearily away;
with the child's arm clinging round his neck.
At the figure in the worn shoes--now the very shade and ghost
of shoes-rough leather leggings, common frock, and broad
slouched hat, Trotty stood gazing: blind to the whole street.
And at the child's arm, clinging round its neck.
Before he merged into the darkness, the traveller stopped; and
looking round, and seeing Trotty standing there yet, seemed undecided whether to return or go on. After doing first the one
and then the other, he came back; and Trotty went half way to
meet him.
"You can tell me, perhaps," said the man, with a faint smile,
" and if you can, I am sure you will, and I 'd rather ask you than
another-where Alderman Cute lives."
" Close at hand," replied Toby. "I '11 show you his house
with pleasure."
" I was to have gone to him elsewhere to-morrow," said the
man, accompanying Toby; " but I 'm uneasy under suspicion,
and want to clear myself, and to be free to go and seek my bread
--I4 don't know where. So, maybe he '11 forgive my going to his
house to-night."
"It 's impossible," cried Toby with a start, " that your name's
Fern!"
" Eh!" cried the other, turning on him with astonishment.
" Fern! Will Fern!" said Trotty.
C That 's my name," replied the other.
" Why then," cried Toby, seizing him by the arm, and looking




ï~~THE CHIMES.

155

cautiously round, " for Heaven's sake don't go to him! Don't
go to him! He '11 put you down as sure as ever you were born.
Here! come up this alley, and I '11 tell you what I mean. Don't
go to him."
His new acquaintance looked as if he thought him mad; but
he bore him company nevertheless. When they were shrouded
from observation, Trotty told him what he knew, and what character he had received, and all about it.
The subject of his history listened to it with a calmness that
surprised him. He did not contradict or interrupt it, once. He
nodded his head now and then-more in corroboration of an old
and worn-out story, it appeared, than in refutation of it; and
once or twice threw back his hat, and passed his freckled hand
over a brow, where every furrow he had ploughed seemed to
have set its image in little. But he did no more.
"It 's true enough in the main," he said, "master. I could
sift grain from husk here and there, but let it be as 't is. What
odds? I have gone against his plans; to my misfortun'. I can't
help it; I should do the like to-morrow. As to character, them
gentlefolks will search and search, and pry and pry, and have
it as free from spot or speck in us, afore they '11 help us to a dry
good word! Well! I hope they don't lose good opinion as easy
as we do, or their lives is strict indeed, and hardly worth the
keeping. For myself, master, I never took with that hand "holding it before him-" what wasn't my own; and never held
it back from work, hoi ever hard, or poorly paid. Whoever can
deny it, let him chop it off! But when work won't maintain me
like a human creetur; when my living is so bad, that I am
Hungry, out of doors and in; when I see a whole working life
begin that way, go on that way, and end that way, without a
chance or change; then I say to the gentlefolks, 'Keep away
from me! Let my cottage be. My doors is dark enough with.
out your darkening of 'emrn more. Don't look for me to come up




ï~~156

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

into the Park to help the show when there 's a Birthday, or a
fine Speechmaking, or what not. Act your Plays and Games
without me, and be welcome to 'em and enjoy 'em. We've
naught to do with one another. I 'm best let alone!' "
Seeing that the child in his arms had opened her eyes, and
was looking around her in wonder, he checked himself to say a
word or two of foolish prattle in her ear, and stand her on the ground
beside him. Then slowly winding one of her long tresses round
and round his rough forefinger like a ring, while she hung about
his dusty leg, he said to Trotty,
"I am not a cross-grained man by natur', I believe; and e&asy
satisfied, I am sure. I bear no ill will against none of 'em; I
only want to live like one of the Almighty's creeturs. I can't,
I don't; and so there's a pit dug between me and them that can
and do. There's others like me. You might tell 'em off by
hundreds and by thousands, sooner than by ones."
Trotty knew he spoke the Truth in this, and shook his head to
signify as much.
"I've got a bad name this way," said Fern; "and I'm not
likely, I'm afeard, to get a better. 'Ta'nt lawful to be out of
sorts, and I AM out of sorts, though God knows I'd sooner bear a
cheerful spirit if I could. Well! 1 don't know as this Alderman
could hurt me much by sending me to jail; but without a friend
to speak a word for me, he might do it; and you see-!" pointing downward with his finger, at the child.
" She has a beautiful face," said Trotty.
" Why yes!" replied the other in a low voice, as he gently
turned it up with both his hands towards his own, and looked
upon it steadfastly. "I've thought so, many times. I've thought
so, when my hearth was very cold, and cupboard very bare. 1
thought so t'other night, when we were taken like two thieves.
But they-they shouldn't try the little face too often, should they,
Lilian? That's hardly fair upon a man!"




ï~~THIE CHIMES.

157

tHe sunk his voice so low, and gazed upon her with an air so
stern and strange, that Toby, to divert the current of his thoughts,
inquired if his wife were living.
" I never had one," he returned, shaking his head. "She's
my brother's child: an orphan. Nine year old, though you'd
hardly think it; but she's tired and worn out now. They'd
have taken care on her, the Union; eight and twenty mile away
from where we live; between four walls (as they took care of my
old father when he couldn't work no more, though he didn't trouble
'em long); but I took her instead, and she's lived with me ever
since. Her mother had a friend once, in London here. We are
trying to find her, and to find work too; but it's a large place.
Never mind. More room for us to walk about in, Lilly!"
Meeting the child's eyes with a smile which melted Toby more
than tears, he shook him by the hand.
" I don't so much as know your name," he said, " but I've
opened my heart free to you, for I am thankful to you; with good
reason. I'll take your advice, and keep clear of this-"
"Justice," suggested Toby.
"Ah!" he said. "If that's the name they give him. This
Justice. And to-morrow we'll try whether there's better fortun'
to be met with somewheres near London. Good night. A Happy
New Year!"
" Stay!" cried Trotty, catching at his hand, as he relaxed his
grip.  Stay! The New Year never can be happy to me, if we
part like this. The New Year never can be happy to me, if I
see the child and you go wandering away you don't know wnere,
without a shelter for your heads. Come home with me! I'm a
poor man, living in a poor place; but I can give you lodging for
one night, and never miss it. Come home with me! Here! I'll
take her!" cried Trotty, lifting up the child. " A pretty one!
I'd carry twenty times her weight, and never know I'd got it.
Tell me if I go too quick for you. I'm very fast. I always




ï~~158

CHIIRISTMAS STORIES.

was!"  Trotty said this, taking about six of his trotting paces to
one stride of his fatigued companion; and with his thin legs
quivering again, beneath the load he bore.
" Why, she's as light," said Trotty, trotting in his speech as
well as in his gait; for he couldn't bear to be thanked, and dreaded
a moment's pause; "as light as a feather. Lighter than a Pea.
cock's feather-a great deal lighter. Here we are, and here we
go! Round this first turning to the right, Uncle Will, and past
the pump, and sharp off up the passage to the left, right opposite
the public-house. Here we are, and here we go. Cross over,
Uncle Will, and mind the kidney pieman at the corner! Here
we are, and here we go! Down the Mews here, Uncle Will,
and stop at the black door, with ' T. Veck, Ticket Porter' wrote
upon a board; and here we are, and here we go, and here we
are indeed, my precious Meg, surprising you!"
With which words Trotty, in a breathless state, set the child
down before his daughter in the middle of the floor. The little
visitor looked once at Meg; and doubting nothing in that face;
but trusting everything she saw there; ran into her arms.
"Here we are, and here we go!" cried Trotty, running round
the room and choking audibly. " Here! Uncle Will! Here's
a fire you know! Why don't you come to the fire? Oh here
we are, and here we go! Meg, my precious darling, where's the
kettle? Here it is, and here it goes, and I'll bile it in no time!"
Trotty really had picked up the kettle somewhere or other in
the course of his wild career, and now put it on the fire: while
Meg, seating the child in a warm corner, knelt down on the
ground before her, and pulled off her shoes, and dried her wet
feet on a cloth. Aye, and she laughed at Trotty too-so pleasantly, so cheerfully, that Trotty could have blessed her where
she kneeled: for he had seen that, when they entered, she was
sitting by the fire in tears.
" Why father!" said Meg. "You're crazy to-night, I think.




ï~~THE CHIMES.

150

1 don t now what the Bells would say to that. Poor little feet.
How cold they are!"
"Oh, they're warmer now!" exclaimed the child. " They're
quite warm now!"
" No, no, no," said Meg. "We haven't rubbed 'em half
enough. We're so busy. So busy! And when they're done,
we'll brush out the damp hair; and when that's done, we'll
bring some color to the poor pale face with fresh water; and
when that's done we'll be so gay, and brisk, and happy-!"
The child, in a burst of sobbing, clasped her round the neck;
caressed her fair cheek with its hand; and said, " Oh Meg! oh
dear Meg!"
Toby's blessing could have done no more. Who could do
more!
"Why, father!" cried Meg after a pause.
"Here I am, and here I go, my dear," said Trotty.
"Good gracious me!" cried Meg. "He's crazy! He's put
the dear child's bonnet on the kettle, and hung the lid behindrA
the door!"
" I didn't go to do it, my love," said Trotty, hastily repairing
this mistake. "Meg, my dear?"
Meg looked towards him, and saw that he had elaborately stationed himself behind the chair of their male visitor, where, with
many mysterious gestures, he was holding up the sixpence he hhd
earned.
"I see, my dear," said Trotty, " as I was coming in, half an
ounce of tea lying somewhere on the stairs; and I'm pretty sure
there was a bit of bacon too. As I don't remember where it
was, exactly, I'll go myself and try to find 'em."
With this inscrutable artifice, Toby withdrew to purchase the
viands he had spoken of, for ready money, at Mrs. Chickenstalker's; and presently came back, pretending that he had not
been able to find them, at first, in the dark.




ï~~160

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" But here they are at last," said Trotty, setting out the tea,
things, " all correct! I was pretty sure it was tea, and a rasher.,So it is. Meg my Pet, if you'll just make the tea, while you.
unworthy father toasts the bacon,, we shall be ready immediate.
It's a curious circumstance," said Trotty, proceeding in his cook
ery, with the assistance of the toasting-fork, "curious, but well
known to my friends, that I never care, myself, for rashers, nor
for tea. I like to see other people enjoy 'em," said Trotty,
speaking very loud, to impress the fact upon his guest, " but to
me, as food, they're disagreeable."
Yet Trotty sniffed the savor of the hissing bacon-ah!-as if
he liked it; and when he poured the boiling water in the tea-pot,
looked lovingly down into the depths of that snug cauldron, and
suffered the fragrant steam to curl about his nose, and wreathe
his head and face in a thick cloud. However, for all this, he
neither ate nor drank except, at the very beginning, a mere morsel
for form's sake, which he appeared to eat with infinite relish, but
declared was perfectly uninteresting to him.
No. Trotty's occupatiorn was, to see Will Fern and Lilian eat
and drink; and so was Meg's   And never did spectators at a
city dinner or court banquet find such high delight in seeing
others feast: although it were a monarch or a pope: as those two
did, in looking on that night. Meg smiled at Trotty, Trotty
laughed at Meg. Meg shook her head and made belief to clap
her hands, applauding Trotty; Trotty conveyed, in dumb-show,
unintelligible narratives of how and when and where he had
found their vistors, to Meg; and they were happy.   Very
happy.
"Although," thought Trotty, sorrowfully, as he watched Meg's
face; ' that match is broken off, I see!"
" Now, I'll tell you what," said Trotty after tea. "The little
mne, sh:e sleeps with Meg, I know.'




ï~~THE CHIMES.

161

"Witn good Meg!" cried the child, caressing her. "With
Meg."
" That's right," said Trotty. "And I shouldn't wonder if she
kiss Meg's father, won't she? I'm Meg's father."
Mightily delighted Trotty was, when the child went timidly
towards him; and having kissed him, fell back upon Meg again.
"She's as sensible as Solomon," said Trotty. "Here we come,
and here we-no, we don't-I don't mean that-I-what was I
saying, Meg, my precious?"
Meg looked towards their guest, who leaned upon her chair,
and with his face turned from her, fondled the child's head, half
hidden in her lap
" To be sure," said Toby. " To be sure! I don't know what
I'm rambling on about, to-night. My wits are wool-gathering, I
think. Will Fern, you come along with me. You're tired to
death, and broken down for want of rest. You come along with
me."
The man still played with the child's curls, still leaned upon
Meg's chair, still turned away his face. He didn't speak, but in
his rough coarse fingers, clenching and expanding in the fair hair
of the child, there was an eloquence that said enough.
"Yes, yes," said Trotty, answering unconsciously what he saw
expressed in his daughter's face. "Take her with you, Meg.
Get her to bed. There! Now, Will, I'll show you where you
lie. It's not much of a place: only a loft: but having a loft, I
always say, is one of the great conveniences of living in a mews;
and till this coach-house and stable gets a better let, we live here
cheap. There's plenty of sweet hay up there, belonging to a
neighbor; and it's as clean as hands and Meg can make it.
Cheer up! Don't give way. A new heart for a New Year,
always!"
The hand, released from the child's hair, had fallen trembling.

10




ï~~162

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

into Trotty's hand. So Trotty, talking without intermission, led
him out as tenderly and easily as if he had been a child himself.
Returning before Meg, he listened for an instant at the door of
her little chamber; an adjoining room. The child was murmuring a simple prayer before lying down to sleep; and when she
had remembered Meg's name, " Dearly, Dearly"-so her words
ran-Trotty heard her stop and ask for his.
It was some short time before the foolish little old fellow could
compose himself to mend the fire, and draw his chair to the warm
hearth. But when he had done so, and had trimmed the light, he took
his newspaper from his pocket, and began to read. Carelessly at
first, and skimming up and down the columns; but with an earnest
and a sad attention, very soon.
For this same dreaded paper redirected Trotty's thoughts into
the channel they had taken all that day, and which the day's
events had so marked out and shaped. His interest in the two
wanderers had set him on another course of thinking, and a happier one, for the time; but being alone again, and reading of the
crimes and violences of the people, he relapsed into his former train.
In this mood, he came to an account (and it was not the first he
had ever read) of a woman who had laid her desperate hands not
only on her own life, but on that of her young child. A crime
so terrible, and so revolting to his soul, dilated with the love of
Meg, that he let the journal drop, and fell back in his chair,
appalled.
"Unnatural and cruel!" Toby cried. "Unnatural and cruel!
None but people who were bad at heart: born bad: who had no
business on the earth: could do such deeds. It's too true, all I've
heard to day; too just, too full of proof. We're Bad I,
The Chimes took up the words so suddenly-burst out so loud,
and clear, and sonorous-that the Bells seemed to strike him in
his chair.
And what was that they said!




ï~~THE CHIMES.

163

"Toby Veck, Toby Veck, waiting for you, Toby! Toby Veck,
Toby Veck, waiting for you, Toby! Come and see us, come and
see us, Drag him to us, drag him to us, Haunt and hunt him,
haunt and hunt him, Break his slumbers, break his slumbers!
Toby Veck, Toby Veck, door open wide, Toby, Toby Veck,
Toby Veck, door open wide, Toby"-then fiercely back to their
impetuous strain again, and ringing in the very bricks and plaster
on the walls.
Toby listened. Fancy, fancy! His remorse for having run
away from them that afternoon! No, No. Nothing of the kind.
Again, again, and yet a dozen times again. "Haunt and hunt
him, haunt and hunt him, Drag him to us, drag him to us!"
Deafening the whole town!
"Meg," said Trotty, softly: tapping at the door. "Do you
hear anything?"
"I hear the Bells, father. Surely they're very loud to-night."
" Is she asleep?" said Toby, making an excuse for peeping in.
"So peacefully and happily! I can't leave her yet though,
father. Look how she holds my hand!"
" Meg!" whispered Trotty. "Listen to the Bells!"
She listened, with her face towards him all the time. But it
underwent no change. She didn't understand them.
Trotty withdrew, resumed his seat by the fire, and once more
listened by himself. He remained here a little time.
It was impossible to bear it; their energy was dreadful.
" If the tower-door is really open," said Toby, hastily laying
aside his apron, but never thinking of his hat, " what's to hinder
me from going up into the steeple and satisfying myself! If it's
shut, I don't want any other satisfaction. That's enough."
He was pretty certain as he slipped out quietly into the street
that he should find it shut and locked, for he knew the door well,
and had so rarely seen it open, that he couldn't reckon above three
times in all. It was a low arched portal, outside the church, in
a dark nook behind a column; and had such great iron hinges




ï~~164

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and such a monstrous lock, that there was more hinge and lock
than door.
But what was his astonishment when, coming bareheaded to
the church; and putting his hand into this dark nook, with a
certain misgiving that it might be unexpectedly seized, and a
shivering propensity to draw it back again; he found that the
door, which opened outwards, actually stood ajar!
He thought, on the first surprise, of going back; or of getting
a light, or a companion; but his courage aided him immediately;
and he determined to ascend alone.
" What have I to fear?" said Trotty. "It's a church! Besides the ringers may be there, and have forgotten to shut the
door."
So he went in; feeling his way as he went, like a blind man;
for it was very dark. And very quiet, for the Chimes were
silent.
The dust from the street had blown into the recess; and lying
there, heaped up, made it so soft and velvet-like to the foot, that
there was something startling even in that. The narrow stair
was so close to the door, too, that he stumbled at the very first,
and shutting the door upon himself, by striking it with his foot
and causing it to rebound back heavily, he couldn't open it
again.
This was another reason, however, for going on. Trotty groped
his way, and went on. Up, up, up, and round and round; and
up, up, up; higher, higher, higher up!
It was a disagreeable staircase for that groping work; so low
and narrow, that his groping hand was always touching something; and it often felt so like a man or ghostly figure standing
up erect and making room for him to pass without discovery, that
he would rub the smooth wall upward searching for its face, and
downward searching for its feet, while a chill tingling crept all
over nim. Twice or thrice a door or niche broke the monotonous
surface; and then it seemed a gap as wide as the whole church;




ï~~THE CHIMES.

165

and he felt sa the brink of an abyss, and going to tumble headlong
down; until he found the wall again.
Still up, up, up; and round and round; and up, up, up;:igh.
er, higher, higher up!
At length, the dull and stifling atmosphere began to freshen:
presently.o feel quite windy: presently it blew so strong, that he
could hardly keep his legs. But he got to an arched window in
the tower, breast-high, and holding tight, looked down upon the
housetops, on the smoking chimneys, on the blurr and blotch of
lights (towards the place where Meg was wondering where he was
and calling to him perhaps), all kneaded up together in a leaven
of mist and darkness.
This was the belfry, where the ringers came. He had caught
hold of one of the frayed ropes which hung down through apertures in the oaken roof. At first he started; thinking it was hair;
then trembled at the very thought of waking the deep Bell. The
Bells themselves were higher. Higher, Trotty, in his fascination,
or in working out the spell upon him, groped his way. By
ladders now, and toilsomely, for it was steep, and not too certain
holding for the feet.
Up, up, up; and climb and clamber; up, up, up; higher,
higher, higher up!
Until, ascending through the floor, and pausing with his head
just raised above its beams, he came among the Bells. It was
barely possible to make out their great shapes in the gloom; but.here they were, Shadowy, and dark, and dumb.
A heavy sense of dread and loneliness fell instantly upon him,
as he climbed into this airy nest of stone and metal. His head
went round and round. He listened, and then raised a wild
Sialloa!"
ltalloa! was mournfully protracted by the echoes.
Giddy, confused, and out of breath, and frightened, Toby looked
about him vacantly, and sunk down in a swoon.




ï~~THIRD      QUARTER.
BLACK are the brooding clouds and troubled the deep waters, when
the Sea of Thought, first heaving from a calm, gives up its Dead.
Monsters uncouth and wild, arise in premature, imperfect resur.
rection; the several parts and shapes of different things are joined
and mixed by chance; and when, and how, and by what wonderful degrees, each separates from each, and every sense and object
of the mind resumes its usual form, and lives again, no manthough every man is every day the casket of this type of the Great
Mystery-can tell.
So; when and how the darkness of the night-black steeple
changed to shining light; when and how the solitary tower was
peopled with a myriad figures; when and how the whispered
" Haunt and hunt him," breathing monotonously through his sleep
or swoon, became a voice exclaiming in the waking ears of Trotty,
"Break his slumbers;" when and how he ceased to have a sluggish and confused idea that such things were, companioning a
host of others that were not; there are no dates or means to tell.
But. awake, and standing on his feet upon the boards where he
had lately lain: he saw this Goblin Sight.
He saw the tower, whither his charmed footsteps had brought
him, swarming with dwarf phantoms, spirits, elfin creatures of
the Bells. He saw them leaping, flying, dropping, pouring from
the Bells without a pause. He saw them, round him on the
ground; above him, in the air; clambering from him, by the ropes
166




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

167

below; looking down upon him, from the massive iron-girded
beams; peeping in upon him, through the chinks and loopholes
in the walls; spreading away and away from him in enlarging
circles, as the water-ripples give place to a huge stone that suddenly comes plashing in among them. He saw them, of all aspects
and all shapes. He saw them ugly, handsome, crippled, exquisitely formed. He saw them young, he saw them old, he saw
them kind, he saw them cruel, he saw them merry, he saw them
grim; he saw them dance, and heard them sing; he saw them
tear their hair, and heard them howl. He saw the air thick with
them. He saw them come and go, incessantly. He saw them
riding downward, soaring upward, sailing off afar, perching near
at hand, all restless, and all violently active. Stone, and brick,
and slate, and tile, became transpn rent to him as to them. He
saw them in the houses, busy at the sleepers' beds. He saw them
soothing people in their dreams; he saw them beating them with
knotted whips; he saw them yelling in their ears; hlie saw them
playing softest music on their pillows; he saw them cheering
some with the songs of birds and the perfume of flowers; he saw
them flashing awful faces on the troubled rest of others, from en.
chanted mirrors which they carried in their hands.
He saw these creatures, not only among sleeping men but wak.
ing also, active in pursuits irreconcileable with one another, and
possessing or assuming natures the most opposite. He saw one
buckling on innumerable wings to increase his speed; another
loading himself with chains and weights to retard his. Ile saw
some putting the hands of clocks forward, some putting the hands
of clocks backward, some endeavoring to stop the clock entirely.
He saw them representing, here a marriage ceremony, there a
funeral; in this chamber an election, and in that a ball; every.
where, restless and untiring motion.
Bewildered by the host of shifting and extraordi; ary figures,
as well as by the uproar of the Bells, which all this while were




ï~~168

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

ringing, Trotty clung to a wooden pillar for support, and turned
his white face here and there, in mute and stunned astonishment.
As he gazed, the Chimes stopped. Instantaneous change! The
whole swarm fainted; their forms collapsed, their speed deserted
them; they sought to fly, but in the act of falling died and melted
into air. No fresh supply succeeded them. One straggler leaped
Jown pretty briskly from the surface of the Great Bell, and
alighted on his feet, but he was dead and gone before he could
turn round. Some few of the late company who had gambolled
in the tower, remained there, spinning over and over a little
longer; but these became at every turn more faint, and few, and
feeble, and soon went the way of the rest. The last of all was
one small hunchback, who had got into an echoing corner, where
he twirled and twirled, and floated by himself a long time; showing such perseverance, that at last he dwindled to a leg and even
to a foot, before he finally retired; but he vanished in the end,
and then the tower was silent.
Then, and not before, did Trotty see in every Bell a bearded
figure of the bulk and stature of the Bell-incomprehensibly, a
figure and the Bell itself. Gigantic, grave, and darkly watchful
of him, as he stood rooted to the ground.
Mysterious and awful figures! Resting on nothing: poised in
tile night air of the tower, with their draped and hooded heads
merged in the dim roof; motionless and shadowy. Shadowy
nd dark, although he saw them by some light belonging to themlves-none else was there-each with his muffled hand upon
s goblin mouth.
He could not plunge down wildly through the opening in the
3oor, for all power of motion had deserted him. Otherwise he
would have done so-aye, would have thrown himself, head-forem3ost, from the steeple-top, rather than have seen them watching




ï~~THE CH tIMES.

169

him with eyes that would have waked and watched although the
pupils had been taken out.
Again, again, the dread and terror of the lonely place, and of
the wild and fearful night that reigned there, touched him like a
spectral hand. His distance from all help; the long, dark, winding, ghost-beleaguered way that lay between him and the earth
on which men lived; his being high, high, high, up there, where
it had made him dizzy to see the birds fly in the day; cut off
from all good people, who at such an hour were safe at home and
sleeping in their beds; all this struck coldly through him, not as
a reflection, but a bodily sensation. Meantime, his eyes and
thoughts and fears were fixed upon the watchful figures; which,
rendered unlike any figures of this world by the deep gloom and
shade enwrapping and enfolding them, as well by their looks and
forms and supernatural hovering above the floor, were nevertheless as plainly to be seen as were the stalwart oaken frames,
cross-pieces, bars and beams, set up there to support the Bells.
These hemmed them, in a very forest of hewn timber; from the
intanglements, intricacies, and depths of which, as from among
the boughs of a dead wood blighted for their Phantom use, they
kept their darksome and unwinking watch.
A blast of air-how cold and shrill!-came moaning through
the tower. As it died away, the Great Bell, or the Goblin of the
Great Bell, spoke.
" What visitor is this?" it said. The voice was low and
deep, and Trotty fancied that it sounded in the other figures as
well.
" I thought my name was called by the Chimes!" said Trotty,
raising his hands in an attitude of supplication. " I hardly know
why I am here, or how I came. I have listened to the Chimes
these many years. They have cheered me often."
"And you have thanked them?" said the Bell.
" A thousand times!" eried Trotty.




ï~~170

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" How!7'
"I am a poor man," faltered Trotty, " and could only thank
them in words."
" And always so?" inquired the Goblin of the Bell. " Have
you never done us wrong in words?"
"No!" cried Trotty eagerly.
"Never done us foul, and false, and wicked wrong, in words?"
pursued the Goblin of the Bell.
Trotty was about to answer "Never!" But he stopped, and
was confused.
" The voice of Time," said the Phantom, " cries to man,
Advance! Time is for his advancement and improvement; for
his g"at r worth, his greater happiness, his better life; his progres on,!ard to that goal within its knowledge and its view, and
set there, in the period when Time and He began. Ages of
darknes,, wickedness, and violence have come and gone: millions
uncount.ble, have suffered, lived, and died: to point the way
before )him. Who seeks to turn him back, or stay him on his
course, arrests a mighty engine which will strike the meddler
dead; and be the fiercer and the wilder, ever, for its momentary
check!"
"I never did so, to my knowledge, Sir," said Trotty. "It
was quite by accident if I did. I wouldn't go to do it, I'm sure."
" Who puts into the mouth of Time, or of its servants," said
the Goblin of the Bell, "a cry of lamentation for days which
have had their trial and their failure, and have left deep traces
of it which the blind may see-a cry that only serves the Pre.
sent Time, by showing men how much it needs their help when
any ears can listen to regrets for such a Past-who does this,
does a wrong. And you have done that wrong to us, the
Chimes."
Trotty's first excess of fear was gone. But he had felt tenderly
and gratefully towards the Bells, as you have seen; and when




ï~~THE CH IMES.

171

ne heard himself arraigned as one who had offended them so
weightily, his heart was touched with penitence and grief.
"If you knew," said Trotty, clasping his hands earnestly"or perhaps you do know-if you knew how often you have
kept me company; how often you have cheered me up when
I've been low; how you were quite the plaything of my little
daughter Meg (almost the only one she ever had) when first her
mother died, and she and me were left alone-you won't bear
malice for a hasty word!"
" Who hears in us, the Chimes, one note bespeaking disregard,
or stern regard, of any hope, or joy, or pain, or sorrow, of the
many-sorrowed throng; who hears us make response to any
creed that gauges human passions and affections, as it gauges the
amount of miserable food on which humanity may pine and
wither; does us wrong. That wrong you have done us!" said
the Bell.
"I have!" said Trotty. "Oh forgive me "
" Who hears us echo the dull vermin of the earth: the Putters
Down of crushed and broken natures, formed to be raised up
higher than such maggots of the time can crawl or can conceive,"
pursued the Goblin of the Bell: " who does so, does us wrong.
And you have done us wrong!"
"Not meaning it," said Trotty. " In my ignorance. Not
meaning it!"
" Lastly, and most of all," pursued the Bell. " Who turns
his back upon the fallen and disfigured of his kind: abandons
them as Vile; and does not trace and track with pitying eyes
the unfenced precipice by which they fell from Good--grasping in
their fall some tufts and shreds of that lost soil, and clinging to
them still when bruised and dying in the gulf below; does
wrong to Heaven and Man, to Time and to Eternity. And you
have done that wrong!N




ï~~172

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Spai e me," cried Trotty, falling on his knees; "for Mercy's
sake!"
" Listen!" said the Shadow.
"Listen!" cried the other Shadows.
"Listen!" said a clear and child-like voice, which Trotty
thought he recognized as having heard before.
The organ sounded faintly in the church below. Swelling by
degrees, the melody ascended to the roof, and filled the choir and
nave. Expanding more and more, it rose up, up; up, up;
higher, higher, higher up; awakening agitated hearts within the
burly piles of oak, the hollow bells, the iron-bound doors, the
stairs of solid stone; until the tower walls were insufficient to
contain it, and it soared into the sky.
No wonder that an old man's breast could not contain a sound
so vast and mighty. It broke from that weak prison in a rush of
tears; and Trotty put his hands before his face.
"Listen!" said the Shadow.
"Listen!" said the other Shadows.
" Listen!" said the child's voice.
A solemn strain of blended voices rose into the tower.
It was a very low and mournful strain: a Dirge; and as he
listened, Trotty heard his child among the singers.
"She is Dead!" exclaimed the old man. "Meg is dead!
Her spirit calls to me. I hear it!"
" The spirit of your child bewails the dead, and mingles with
the dead-dead hopes, dead fancies, dead imaginings of youth,"
returned the Bell, " but she is living. Learn from her life, a
living truth. Learn from the creature dearest to your heart,
how bad the Bad are born. See every bud and leaf plucked one
dy one from off the fairest stemn, and know how bare and wretched
it may be. Follow her! To Desperation!"
Each of the shadowy figures stretched.its right arm forth, and
pointed downward.




ï~~TIlE  CHIIMES.

173

" The Spirit of the Chimes is your companion," said the figure.
" Go! It stands behind you!
Trotty turned, and saw-the child! The child Will Fern had
carried in the street; the child whom Meg had watched, but
now, asleep!
" I carried her myself, to-night," said Trotty.  " In these
arms!"
" Show him what he calls himself," said the dark figures, one
and all.
The tower opened at his feet. He looked down, and beheld
his own form, lying at the bottom, on the outside: crushed and
motionless.
" No more a living man!" cried Trotty. " Dead!"
" Dead!" said the figures all together.
" Gracious Heaven! And the New Year-"
" Past," said the figures.
" What!" he cried, shuddering. " I missed my way, and
coming on the outside of this tower in the dark, fell down-a year
ago?"
" Nine years ago!" replied the figures.
As they gave the answer, they recalled their outstretched
hands; and where the figures had been, there the Bells were.
And they rung; their time being come again.   And once
again, vast multitudes of phantoms sprung into existence; once
again, were incoherently engaged, as they had been before; once
again, faded on the stopping of the Chimes; and dwindled into
nothing.
"What are these!" he asked his guide. "If I am not mad,
what are these?"
" Spirits of the Bells. Their sound upon the air," returned
the child. " They take such shapes and occupations as the
hopes and thoughts of mortals, and the recollections they have
stored up, give them."




ï~~174

CHRISTMAS  STORIES.

"And you," said Trotty, wildly. " What are you?"
"Hush, hush!" returned the child. " Look here!"
In a poor, mean room; working at the same kind of embroidery
which he had often, often seen before her; Meg, his own dear
daughter, was presented to his view. He made no effort to imprint
his kisses on her face; he did not strive to clasp her to his loving
heart; he knew that such endearments were for him no more.
But he held his trembling breath; and brushed away the blinding tears, that he might look upon her; that he might only see
her.
Ah! Changed. Changed. The light of the clear eye, how
dimmed. The bloom, how faded from the cheek. Beautiful she
was, as she had ever been, but Hope, Hope, Hope, oh, where was
the fresh Hope that had spoken to him like a voice!
She looked up from her work, at a companion. Following her
eyes, the old man started back.
In the woman grown he recognized her at a glance. In the
long silken hair, he saw the self-same curls; around the lips,
the child's expression lingering still. See! In the eyes, now
turned inquiringly on Meg, there shone the very look that scanned those features when he brought her home!
Then what was this beside him!
Looking with awe into its face, he saw a something reigning
there: a lofty something, undefined and indistinct, which made
it hardly more than a remembrance of that child-as yonder
figure might be-yet it was the same: the same: and wore the
dress.
Hark! They were speaking!
" Meg," said Lilian, hesitating. " How often you raise your
head from your work to look at me!"
" Are my looks so altered, that they frighten you?" asked
Meg.




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

175

"Nay, dear! But you smile at that yourself! Why not
smile when you look at me, Meg?"
"I do so. Do I not?" she answered, smiling on her.
"Now you do," said Lilian, " but not usually. When you
think I'm busy, and don't see you, you look so anxious and so
doubtful, that I hardly like to raise my eyes. There is little
cause for smiling in this hard and toilsome life, but you were
once so cheerful."
" Am I not now?" cried Meg, speaking in a tone of strange
alarm, and rising to embrace her. " Do I make our weary life
more weary to you, Lilian?"
"You have been the only thing that made it life," said Lilian,
fervently kissing her; "sometimes the only thing that made me
care to live so, Meg. Such work, such work! So many hours,
so many days, so many long, long nights of hopeless, cheerless,
never-ending work-not to heap up riches, not to live grandly
or gaily, not to live upon enough, however coarse; but to earn
bare bread; to scrape together just enough to toil upon, and want
upon, and keep alive in us the consciousness of our hard fate!
Oh, Meg, Meg!" she raised her voice and twined her arms about
her as she spoke, like one in pain. " How can the cruel world
go round, and bear to look upon such lives!"
" Lilly," said Meg, soothing her, and putting back her- hair
from her wet face. "Why, Lilly! You! So pretty and so
young!"
"Oh, Meg!" she interrupted, holding her at arm's-length, and
looking in her face imploringly. "The worst of all, the worst
of all! Strike me old, Meg! Wither me and shrivel me, and
free me from the dreadful thoughts that tempt me in my youth!"
Trotty turned to look upon his guide. But the Spirit of the
child had taken flight. Was gone.
Neither did he himself remain in the same place; for Sir
loseph Bowley, Friend and Father of the Poor, held a great fes.




ï~~176

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

tivity at Bowley Hall, in honor of the natal day of Lady Bow.
ley; and as Lady Bowley had be. n born on New Year's day
(which the local newspapers considered In especial pointing of
the finger of Providence to number One, as Lady Bowley's des
tined figure in Creation), it was on a New Year's Day that thii
festivity took place.
Bowley Hall was full of visitors. The red-faced gentleman
was there, Mr. Filer was there, the great Alderman Cute was
there-Alderman Cute had a sympathetic feeling with great
people, and had considerably improved his acquaintance with Sir
Joseph Bowley on the strength of his attentive letter: indeed had
become quite a friend of the family since then-and many guests
were there. Trotty's ghost was there, wandering about, poor
phantom, drearily; and looking for its guide.
There was to be a great dinner in the Great Hall. At which
Sir Joseph Bowley, in his celebrated character of Friend and
Father of the Poor, was to make his great speech. Certain
plum-puddings were to be eaten by his Friends and Children
in another Hall first; and, at a given signal, Friends and Children flocking in among their Friends and Fathers, were to form
a family assemblage, with not one manly eye therein unmoistened
by emotion.
But there was more than this to happen. Even more than
this. Sir Joseph Bowley, Baronet and Member of Parliament,
was to play a match at skittles-real skittles-with his tenants.
" Which quite reminds one," said Alderman Cute, "of the
days of old King Hal, stout King Hal, bluff King Hal. Ah!
Fine character!"
" Very," said Mr. Filer, drily. "For marrying women and
murdering 'em. Considerably more than the average number
of wives, by the bye."
"You'll marry the beautiful ladies, and not murder 'em, eh?"
said Alderman Cute to the heir of Bowley, aged twelve. "Sweet




ï~~THE CHIMES.

177

boy! We shall have this little gentleman in Parliament now,"
said the Alderman, holding him by the shoulders, and looking as
reflective as he could, "before we know where we are. We
shall hear of his successes at the poll; his speeches in the house;
his overtures from Governments; his brilliant achievements of all
kinds; ah! we shall make our little orations about him in the
common council, I'll be bound; before we have time to look
about us!"
" Oh, the difference of shoes and stockings!" Trotty thought.
But his heart yearned towards the child, for the love of those
same shoeless and stockingless boys, predestined (by the Alderman) to turn out bad, who might have been the children of poor
Meg.
"Richard," moaned Trotty, roaming among the company, to
and fro; "where is he?   I can't find Richard! Where is
Richard?"
Not likely to be there, if still alive! But Trotty's grief and
solitude confused him; and he still went wandering among the
gallant company; looking for his guide, and saying, " Where is
Richard? Show me Richard!"
He was wandering thus, when he encountered Mr. Fish, the
confidential Secretary: in great agitation.
"Bless my heart and soul!" cried Mr. Fish. "Where's Al
derman Cute? Has anybody seen the Alderman?"
Seen the Alderman? Oh dear! Who could ever help seeing,he Alderman? He was so considerate, so affable; he bore se
much in mind the natural desire of folks to see him; that if hlf
had a fault, it was the being constantly On View. And wherevethe great people were, there, to be sure, attracted by the kindret
sympathy between great souls, was Cute.
Several voices cried that he was in the circle round Sir Joseph.
Mr. Fish made way there; found him; and took him secretly

11




ï~~178

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

into a window near at hand. Trotty joined them. Not of his
own accord. He felt that his steps were led in that direction.
"My dear Alderman Cute," said Mr. Fish. "A little more
this way. The most dreadful circumstance has occurred. I
have this moment received the intelligence. I think it will be
best not to acquaint Sir Joseph with it till the day is over. You
understand Sir Joseph, and will give me your opinion. The
most frightful and deplorable event!"
"Fish!" returned the Alderman. "Fish! My good fellow,
what is the matter? Nothing revolutionary, I hope! No-no
attempted interference with the magistrates?"
"Deedles, the banker," gasped the Secretary.  "Deedles
Brothers-who was to have been here to-day-high in office in
the Goldsmiths' Company-"
"Not stopped!" exclaimed the Alderman. "It can't be!"
"Shot himself."
"Good God!"
" Put a double-barrelled pistol to his mouth, in his own counting-house," said Mr. Fish, "and blew his brains out. No motive.
Princely circumstances!"
"Circumstances!" exclaimed the Alderman.   "A man of
noble fortune. One of the most respectable of men. Suicide,
Mr. Fish! By his own hand!"
"This very morning," returned Mr. Fish.
"Oh the brain, the brain!" exclaimed the pious Alderman,
lifting up his hands. "Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries
of this machine called Man! Oh the little that unhinges it: poor
crEatures that we are! Perhaps a dinner, Mr. Fish. Perhaps
the conduct of his son, who, I have heard, ran very wild, and
wa sin the habit of drawing bills upon him without the least authority! A most respectable man. One of the most respectable
men I ever knew! A lamentable instance, Mr. Fish. A publio
calamity! I shall make a point of wearing the deepest mouri




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

179

ing. A most respectable man! But there is One above. We
must submit, Mr. Fish. We must submit!"
What, Alderman! No word of Putting Down?      Remember,
Justice, your high moral boast and pride. Come, Alderman!
Balance those scales. Throw me into this, the empty one, No
Dinner, and Nature's Founts in some poor woman, dried by
starving misery and rendered obdurate to claims for which her
offspring has authority in holy mother Eve. Weigh me the two:
you Daniel going to judgment, when your day shall come!
Weigh them, in the eyes of suffering thousands, audience (not
unmindful) of the grim farce you play! Or supposing that you
strayed from your five wits-it's not so far to go, but that it might
be-and laid hands upon that throat of yours, warning your fellows (if you have a fellow) how they croak their comfortable
wickedness to raving heads and stricken hearts. What then?
The words rose up in Trotty's breast, as if they had been
spoken by some other voice within him. Alderman Cute pledged
himself to Mr. Fish that he would assist him in breaking the
melancholy catastrophe to Sir Joseph, when the day was over.
Then, before they parted, wringing Mr. Fish's hand in bitterness
of soul, he said, "The most respectable of men!" And added
that he hardly knew: not even he: why such afflictions were allowed on earth.
"It's almost enough to make one think, if one didn't know better," said Alderman Cute, "that at times some motion of a cap.
sizing nature was going on in things, which affected the general
conomy of the social fabric. Deedles Brothers!"
The skittle-playing came off' with immense success. Sir Jo
seph knocked the pins about quite skilfully; Master Bowley took
an innings at a shorter distance also; and everybody said that
now, when a Baronet and the Son of a Baronet played at skittles,
the country was coming round again, as fast as it could come.
At its proper ime, the Banquet was served up. Trotty invo




ï~~180

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

luntarily repaired to the Hall with the rest, for he felt himself
conducted thither by some stronger ilnmpulse than his own free
will. The siglit was gay in the extreme; the ladies were very
handsome; the visitors delighted, cheerful, and good-tempered.
When the lower doors were opened, and the people flocked in,
in their rustic dresses, the beauty of the spectacle was at its
height; but Trotty only murmured more and more, "Where is
Richard! He should help and comfort her! I can't see Richard!"
There had been some speeches made; and Lady Bowley's
health had been proposed; and Sir Joseph Bowley had returned
thanks; and had made his great speech, showing by various
pieces of evidence that he was the born Friend and Father, and
so forth; and had given as a Toast, his Friends and Children,
and the Dignity of Labor; when a slight disturbance at the bottom of the hall attracted Toby's notice. After some confusion,
noise, and opposition, one man broke through the rest, and stood
forward by himself.
Not Richard. No. But one whom he had thought of, and
had looked for, many times. In a scantier supply of light, he
might have doubted the identity of that worn man, so old, and
grey, and bent; but with a blaze of lamps upon his gnarled and
knotted head, he knew Will Fern as soon as he stepped forth.
"What is this!" exclaimed Sir Joseph, rising. " Who gave
this man admittance? This is a criminal from prison! Mr.
Fish, Sir, will you have the goodness-"
" A minute!" said Will Fern. "A minute! My Lady, you
was born on this day along with a New Year. Get me a minute's
leave to speak."
She made some intercession for him, a:-d Sir Joseph took his
seat again, with native dignity.
The ragged visitor-for he was miserably dressed-looked
round upon the company, and made his homage to them with an
humble bow.




ï~~THE CHIMES.

181

"Gentlefolks!" he said. "You've drunk the Laborer. Look
at me!"
"Just come from jail," said Mr. Fish.
"Just come from jail," said Will. "And neither for the first
time, nor the second, nor the third, nor yet the fourth."
Mr. Filer was heard to remark testily, that four times was over
the average; and he ought to be ashamed of himself.
"Gentlefolks!" repeated Will Fern. "Look at me! You
see I'm at the worst. Beyond all hurt or harm; beyond your
help; for the time when your kind words or kind actions could
have done ME good,"-he struck his hand upon his breast, and
shook his head, "is gone, with the scent of last year's beans or
clover on the air. Let me say a word for these," pointing to the
laboring people in the hall; "and when you're met together,
hear the real Truth spoke out for once."
" There's not a man here," said the host, " who would have
him for a spokesman."
"Like enough, Sir Joseph. I believe it. Not the less true,
perhaps, is what I say. Perhaps that 's a proof on it. Gentle.
folks, I've lived many a year in this place. You may see the
cottage from the sunk fence over yonder. I 've seen the ladies
draw it in their books a hundred times. It looks well in a picter,
I 've heerd say; but there an't weather in picters, and maybe
'tis fitter for that, than for a place to live in. Well! I lived:here. How hard-how bitter hard, I lived there, I won't say.
Any day in the year, and every day, you can judge for your
own selves."
He spoke as he had spoken on the night when Trotty had found
him in the street. His voice was deeper and more husky, and
had a trembling in it now and then; but he never raised it, pas.
sionately, and seldom lifted it above the firm stern level of the
homely facts he stated.
" 'Tis harder than you think for, gentlefolks, to grow up de.




ï~~182

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

cent: commonly decent: in such a place. That I growed up a
man and not a brute, says something for me-as I was then. As
I am now, there 's nothing can be said for me or done for me.
I 'm past it."
' I am glad this man has entered," observed Sir Joseph, look.
ing round sternly. " Don't disturb him. It appears to be Or.
dained. He is an Example: a living example. I hope and trust,
and confidently expect, that it will not be lost upon my Friends
here."
"I dragged on," said Fern, after a moment's silence. "Some.
how. Neither me nor any other man knows how; but so heavy,
that I couldn't put a cheerful face upon it, or make believe that
I was anything but what I was. Now, gentlemen-you gentle.
men that sits at Sessions-when you see a man with discontent
writ on his face, you say to one another, ' he 's suspicious. I has
my doubts,' says you, ' about Will Fern. Watch that fellow!'
I don't say, gentlemen, it ain't quite nat'ral, but I say 'tis so; and
from that hour, whatever Will Fern does, or lets alone-all one
-it goes against him."
Alderman Cute stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat-pockets, and
leaning back in his chair, and smiling, winked at a neighboring
chandelier. As much as to say, "Of course! I told you so.
The common cry! Lord bless you, we are up to all this sort of
thing-myself and human nature."
" Now, gentlemen)" said Will Fern, holding out his hands,
and flushing for an instant in his haggard face. " See how your
laws are made to trap and hunt us when we 're brought to this.
I tries to live elsewhere. And I'm a vagabond. To jail with
him! I comes back here. I goes a nutting in your woods, and
breaks-who don't?-a limber branch or two. To jail with
him! One of your keepers sees me in the broad day, near my
own patch of garden, with a gun. To jail with him! I has a
nat'ral angry word with that man, when I'm free again. 'To jail




ï~~THE CHIMES

183

with him! I cuts a stick. To jail with him! I eats a rotten
apple or a turnip. To jail with him! It's twenty mile away;
and coming back, I begs a trifle on the road. To jail with him!
At last, the constable, the keeper-anybody-finds me anywhere,
a doing anything. To jail with him, for he's a vagrant, and a
jail-bird known; and jail's the only home he 's got."
The Alderman nodded sagaciously, as who should say, " A
very good home too!"
" Do I say this to serve my cause!" cried Fern. "Who can
give me back my liberty, who can give me back my good name,
who can give me back my innocent niece? Not all the Lords
and Ladies in wide England. But gentlemen, gentlemen, dealing with other men like me, begin at the right end. Give us, in
mercy, better homes when we 're a lying in our cradles; give us
better food when we 're working fbr our lives; give us kinder
laws to bring us back when we 're a going wrong; and don't set
Jail, Jail, Jail, afore us, everywhere we turn. There an't a
condescension you can show the Laborer then, that he won't take,
as ready and as grateful as a man can be; for he has a patient,
peaceful, willing heart. But you must put his rightful spirit in
him first; for whether he 's a wreck and ruin such as me, or is
like one of them that stand here now, his spirit is divided from
you at this time. Bring it back, gentlefolks, bring it back!
Bring it back, afore the day comes when even his Bible changes
in his altered mind, and the words seem to him to read, as they
have sometimes read in my own eyes-in Jail: ' Whither thou
goest, I can Not go; where thou lodgest, I do Not lodge; thy
people are Not my people; Nor thy God my God!"
A sudden stir and agitation took place in the Hall. Ti..
thought at first, that several had risen to eject the man; and hence
this change in its appearance. But another moment showed him
that the room and all the company had vanished from his sight,
and that his daughter was again before him, seated at her work.




ï~~184

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

But in a poorer, meaner garret than before; and with no Lilian
by her side.
The frame at which she had worked, was put away upon a
shelf and covered up. The chair in which she had sat, was
turned against the wall. A history was written in these little
things, and in Meg's grief-worn face. Oh! who could fail to
read it!
Meg strained her eyes upon her work until it was too dark to
see the threads; and when the night closed in, she lighted her
feeble candle and worked on. Still her old father was invisible
about her; looking down upon her; loving her-how dearly
loving her!-and talking to her in a tender voice about the old
times, and the Bells. Though he knew, poor Trotty, though he
knew she could not hear him.
A great part of the evening had worn away, when a knock
came at her door. She opened it. A man was on the threshold.
A slouching, moody, drunken sloven: wasted by intemperance
and vice: and with his matted hair and unshorn beard in wild
disorder: but with some traces on him, too, of having been a man
of good proportion and good features in his youth.
He stopped until he had her leave to enter; and she, retiring
a pace or two from the open door, silently and sorrowfully looked
upon him. Trotty had his wish. He saw Richard.
"May I come in, Margaret?"
"Yes! Come in! Come in!"
It was well that Trotty knew him before he spoke, for with
any doubt remaining on his mind, the harsh discordant voice
would have persuaded him that it was not Richard, but some
other man.
There were but two chairs in the room. She gave him hers,
and stood at some short distance from him, waiting to hear what
he had to say.
He sat, however, staring vacantly at the floor; with a lustre




ï~~THE CHIMES.

185

less and stupid smile. A spectacle of such deep degradation, of
such abject hopelessness, of such a miserable downfall, that she
put her hands before her face and turned away, lest he should
see how much it moved her.
Roused by the rustling of her dress, or some such trifling
sound, he lifted his head, and began to speak as if there had been
no pause since he entered.
"Still at work, Margaret? You work late."
" I generally do."
"And early?"
"And early."
"So she said. She said you never tired; or never owned that
you tired. Not all the time you lived together. Not even when
you fainted, between work and fasting. But I told you that, the
last time I came."
"You did," she answered. " And I implored you to tell me
nothing more; and you made me a solemn promise, Richard,
that you never would."
"A solemn promise," he repeated, with a drivelling laugh and
vacant stare. "A solemn promise. To be sure. A solemn
promise!"  Awakening, as it were, after a time; in the same
manner as before; he said with sudden animation,
" How can I help it, Margaret?  What am I to do? She has
been to me again!"
" Again!" cried Meg, clasping her hands. "Oh, does she
think of me so often! Has she been again!"
"Twenty times again," said Richard. " Margaret, she haunts
me. She comes behind me in the street, and thrusts it in my
nand. I hear her foot upon the ashes when I'm at my work (ha, ha!
that an't often), and before I can turn my head, her voice is in my
ear, saying,' Richard, don't look round. For heaven's love, give
her this!' She brings it where I live; she sends it in letters;




ï~~186

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

sne taps at tne window and lays it on tne sh,. Wnat can L ao?
Look at it!"
He held out in his hand a little purse, and chinked the money
it enclosed.
"Hide it," said Meg. "Hide it! When she comes again tel.
her, Richard, that 1 love her in my soul. That I never lie down
to sleep, but I bless her, and pray fbr her. That in my solitary
work, I never cease to have her in my thoughts. That she is
with me, night and day. That if I died to-morrow, I would
remember her with my last breath. But that I cannot look
upon it!"
He slowly recalled his hand, and crushing the purse together,
said with a kind of drowsy thoughtfulness:
"I told her so. I told her so, as plain as words could speak.
I've taken this gift back and left it at her door, a dozen times
since then. But when she came at last, and stood before me,
face to face, what could I do?"
"You saw her!" exclaimed Meg. "You saw her! Oh, Lilian,
my sweet girl! Oh, Lilian, Lilian!"
"I saw her," he went on to say, not answering, but engaged in
the same slow pursuit of his own thoughts. " There she stood:
trembling! 'How does she look, Richard?  Does she ever
speak of me? Is she thinner? My old place at the table:
what's in my old place? And the frame she taught me our old
work on-has she burnt it, Richard!' There she was. I heard
her say it."
Meg checked her sobs, and with the tears streaming from her
eyes, bent over him to listen. Not to lose a breath.
With his arms resting on his knees; and stooping forward in
his chair, as if what he said were written on the ground in some
half legible character, which it was his occupation to deciphe.
and connect; he went on.
"' Richard, I have fallen very low; and you may guess how




ï~~THE CHIMES.

187

much I have suffered in having this sent back, when I can bear
to bring it in my hand to yo,. But you loved her once, even in
my memory, dearly. Others stepped in between you; fears, and
jealousies, and doubts, and vanities, estranged you from her, but
you did love her, even in my memory!' I suppose I did," he said,
interrupting himself for a moment. "I did! That's neither here nor
there. ' Oh Richard, if you ever did; if you have any memory for
what is gone and lost, take it to her once more. Once more! Tell
her how I begged and prayed. Tell her how I laid my head upon
your shoulder, where her own head might have lain, and was so
humble to you, Richard. Tell her that you looked into my face,
and saw the beauty which she used to praise, all gone: all gone:
and in its place, a poor, wan, hollow cheek, that she would weep
to see. Tell her everything, and take it back, and she will not
refuse again. She will not have the heart!' "
So he sat musing, and repeating the last words, until he woke
again, and rose.
"You won't take it, Margaret!"
She shook her head, and motioned an entreaty to him to leave
her.
" Good night, Margaret."
"Good night!"
He turned to look upon her; struck by her sorrow, and per.
haps by the pity for himself which trembled in her voice. It was
a quick and rapid action; and for the moment some flash of his old
bearing kindled in his form. In the next he went as he had come.
Nor did this glimmer of a quenched fire seem to light him to a
quicker sense of his debasement.
In any mood, in any grief, in any torture of the mind or body,
Meg's work must be done. She sat down to her task, and plied
it. Night, midnight! Still she worked!
She had a meagre fire, the night being very cold; and rose a
intervals to mend it. The Chimes rang half-past twelve while




ï~~188

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

she was thus engaged; and when they ceased she heard a gentle
knocking at the door. Before she could so much as wonder who
was there, at that unusual hour, it opened.
Oh Youth and Beauty, happy as ye should be, look at this!
Oh Youth and Beauty, blest and blessing all within your reach,
and working out the ends of your Beneficent Creator, look at
this!
She saw the entering figure; screamed its name; cried
"Lilian!"
It was swift, and fell upon its knees before her; clinging to
her dress.
"Up, dear! Up! Lilian! My own dearest!"
"Never more, Meg; never more! Here! Here! Close to you,
holding to you, feeling your dear breath upon my face!"
"Sweet Lilian! Darling Lilian! Child of my heart-no mother's
love can be more tender-lay your head upon my breast!"
"Never more, Meg. Never more! When I first looked into
your face, you knelt before me. On my knees before you, let
me die. Let it be here!"
" You have come back. My Treasure! We will live together,
work together, hope together, die together!"
"Ah! Kiss my lips, Meg; fold your arms about me; press me
to your bosom; look kindly on me; but don't raise me. Let
it be here. Let me see the last of your dear face upon my
knees!"
Oh Youth and Beauty, happy as ye should be, look at this!
Oh Youth and Beauty, working out the ends of your Beneficent
Creator, look at this!
"Forgive me, Meg! So dear, so dear! Forgive me! I know
you do, I see you do; but say so, Meg!"
She said so, with her lips on Lilian's cheek. And with her
arms twined round-she knew it now-a broken heart.
"His blessing on you, dearest love. Kiss me once more! He




ï~~THE CHIMES.                      189
suffered her to sit beside His feet, and dry them with her hair.
Oh Meg, what Mercy and Compassion!"
As she died, the Spirit of the child returning, innocent and
radiant, touched the old man with its hand, and beckoned him
away.




ï~~THE     FOURTH        QUARTER.
SOmE new remembrance of the ghostly figures in the Bells; some
faint impression of the ringing of the Chimes; some giddy consciousness of having seen the swarm of phantoms reproduced and
reproduced until the recollection of them lost itself in the confusion
of their numbers; some hurried knowledge, how conveyed to him
he knew not, that more years had passed; and Trotty, with the
Spirit of the child attending him, stood looking on at mortal company.
Fat company, rosy-cheeked company, comfortable company.
They were but two, but they were red enough for ten. They sat
before a bright fire, with a small low table between them; and
unless the fragrance of hot tea and muffins lingered longer in that
room than in most others, the table had seen service very lately.
But all the cups and saucers being clean, and in their proper
places in the corner cupboard; and the brass toasting-fork hanging in its usual nook, and spreading its four idle fingers out, as if
it wanted to be measured for a glove; there remained no other
visible tokens of the meal just finished, than such as purred and
washed their whiskers in the person of the basking cat, and
glistened in the gracious, not to say the greasy, faces of her pa.
trons.
This cosy couple (married, evidently) had made a fair division
of the fire between them, and sat looking at the glowing sparks
tnat dropped under the grate; now noddirg off into a doze; now
190




ï~~THE CHIMES.

191

waking up again when some hot fragment, larger than the rest,
came rattling down, as if the fire were coming with it.
It was in no danger of sudden extinction, however; for it
gleamed not only in the little room, and on the panes of windowglass in the door, and on the curtain half drawn across them, but
in the little shop beyond. A little shop, quite crammed ana
choked with the abundance of its stock; a perfectly voracious
little shop, with a maw as accommodating and full as any shark's.
Cheese, butter, firewood, soap, pickles, matches, bacon, table-beer,
peg-tops, sweetmeats, boys' kites, bird-seed, cold ham, birch
brooms, hearth-stones, salt, vinegar, blacking, red-herrings, sta.
tionery, lard, mushroom ketchup, stay-laces, loaves of bread,
shuttlecocks, eggs, and slate-pencil; everything was fish that came
to the net of this greedy little shop, and all these articles were in
its net. How many other kinds of petty merchandise were there,
it would be difficult to say; but balls of packthread, ropes ot
onions, pounds of candles, cabbage-nets, and brushes, hung in
bunches from the ceiling, like extraordinary fruit; while various
odd canisters, emitting aromatic smells, established the veracity
of the inscription over the outer door, which informed the public
that the keeper of this little shop was a licensed dealer in tea,
coffee, tobacco, pepper, and snuff.
Glancing at such of these items as were visible in the shining
of the blaze, and the less cheerful radiance of two smoky lamps
which burnt but dimly in the shop itself, as though its plethora
sat heavy on their lungs; and glancing, then, at one of the two
faces by the parlor-fire; Trotty had small difficulty in recognizing
in the stout old lady, Mrs. Chickenstalker: always inclined to
corpulency, even in the days when he had known her as esta.
blished in the general line, and having a small balance against
him in her books.
The features of her companion were less easy to him. The
great broad chin, with creases in it large enough to hide a finger




ï~~192

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

in; the astonished eyes, that seemed to expostulate with themselves
for sinking deeper and deeper into the yielding fat of the soft face;
the nose, afflicted with that disordered action of its functions which
is generally termed The Snuffles; the short thick throat and
laboring chest, with other beauties of the like description; though
calculated to impress the memory, Trotty could at first allot to
rabody he had ever known: and yet he had some recollection of
them too. At length, in Mrs. Chickenstalker's partner in the
general line, and in the crooked and eccentric line of life, he recognized the former porter of Sir Joseph Bowley; an apoplectic
innocent, who had connected himself in Trotty's mind with Mrs.
Chickenstalker years ago, by giving him admission to the mansion
where he had confessed his obligations to that lady, and drawn on
his unlucky head such grave reproach.
Trotty had little interest in a change like this, after the changes
he had seen; but association is very strong sometimes; and he
looked involuntarily behind the parlor-door, where the accounts
of credit customers are usually kept in chalk. There was no
record of his name. Some names were there, but they were
strange to him, and infinitely fewer than of old: from which he
augured that the porter was an advocate of ready money transactions, and on coming into the business had looked pretty sharp
after the Chickenstalker defaulters.
So desolate was Trotty, and so mournful for the youth and
promise of his blighted child, that it was a sorrow to him, even to
have no place in Mrs. Chickenstalker's ledger.
" What sort of a night is it, Anne?" inquired the former porter
of Sir Joseph Bowley, stretching out his legs before the fire, and
rubbing as much of them as his short arms could reach; with an
air that added, "Here I am if it's bad, and I don't want to go out
if it's good."
"Blowing and sleeting hard," returned his wife; "and threat.
ening snow. Dark. And very cold."




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

193

" I'm glad to think we had muffins," said the former porter, in
the tone of one who had set his conscience at rest. "It's a sort
of night that's meant for muffins  Likewise crumpets. Also
Sally Lunns."
The former porter mentioned each successive kind of eatable,
as if he were musingly summing up his good actions. After
which, he rubbed his fat legs as before, and jerking them at the
knees to get the fire upon the yet unroasted parts, laughed as if
somebody had tickled him.
"You're in spirits, Tugby, my dear," observed his wife.
The firm was Tugby, late Chickenstalker.
"No," said Tugby. "No.      Not particular.  I'm a little
clewated. The muffins came so pat!"
With that, he chuckled until he was black in the face; and
had so much ado to become any other color, that his fat legs took
the strangest excursions into the air. Nor were they reduced to
anything like decor un until Mrs. Tugby had thumped him violently
on the back, and shaken him as if he were a great bottle.
" Good gracious, goodness lord-a-mercy bless and save the
man!" cried Mrs. Tugby, in great terror. " What's he doing?"
Mr. Tugby wiped his eyes, and faintly repeated that he found
himself a little elewated.
" Then don't be so again, that's a dear good soul," said Mrs.
Tugby, "if you don't want to frighten me to death, with your
struggling and fighting!"
Mr. Tugby said he wouldn't, but his whole existence was a
fight; in which, if any judgment might be founded on the constantly-increasing shortness of his breath, and the deepening purple
of his face, he was always getting the worst of it.
" So it's blowing, and sleeting, and threatening snow; and is
dark, and very cold: is it, my dear?" said Mr. Tugby, looking
at the fire, and reverting to the cream and marrow of his tempo.,ary elevation.
12




ï~~194

CHRISTMAS STuRIES.

" Hard weather, indeed," returned his wife, shaking ner
n~d.
"Aye, aye! '"Years," said Mr. Tugby, "are like Christians
in that respect. Some of 'em die hard; some of 'em die easy.
This one hasn't many days to run, and is making a fight for it.
i like him all the better. There's a customer, my love!"
Attentive to the rattling door, Mrs. Tugby had already risen.
"Now then!" said that lady, passing out into the little shop.
"What's wanted? Oh! I beg your pardon, Sir, I'm sure. I
didn't think it was you."
She made this apology to a gentleman in black, who, with his
wristbands tucked up, and his hat cocked loungingly on one side,
and his hands in his pockets, sat down astride on the table-beer
barrel, and nodded in return.
"This is a bad business up stairs, Mrs. Tugby," said the gen.
tleman. " The man can't live."
"Not the back-attic can't!" cried Tugby, coming out into the
shop to join the conference.
"The back-attic, Mr. Tugby," said the gentleman, "is coming down stairs fast: and will be below the basement very
soon."
Looking by turns at Tugby and his wife, he sounded the barrel
with his knuckles for the depth of beer, and having found it,
played a tune upon the empty part.
" The back-attic, Mr. Tugby," said the gentleman: Tugby
having stood in silent consternation for some time: " is Going."
"Then," said Tugby, turning to his wife," "he must Go, you
know, before he's Gone."
" 1 don't think you can move him," said the gentleman, shak.
ing his head. "I wouldn't take the responsibility of:vaying it
could be done myself. You had better leave him where he is. He
can't live long."
" It's the only subject," said Tugby, bringing the butter scale




ï~~THE CHIMES

195

cown upon the counter with a crash, by weighing his fist on it,
' that we've ever had a word upon; she and me: and look what
it comes to! He's going to die here, after all. Going to die upon
the premises. Going to die in our house!"
"And where should he have died, Tugby?" cried his wife.
"'In the workhouse," he returned. " What are workhouses
made for?"
"Not for that," said Mrs. Tugby, with great energy. "Not
for that. Neither did I marry you for that. Don't think it, Tugby.
I won't have it. I won't allow it. I'd be separated first, and
never see your face again. When my widow's name stood over
that door, as it did for many years: this house being known as
Mrs. Chickenstalker's far and wide, and never known but to its
honest credit and its good report: when my widow's name stood
over that door, Tugby, I knew him as a handsome, steady, manly,
independent youth; I knew her as the sweetest-looking, sweetesttempered girl, eyes ever saw; I knew her father (poor old creetur,
he fell down from the steeple walking in his sleep, and killed himself), for the simplest, hardest-working, childest-hearted man, that
ever drew the breath of life; and when I turn them out of house
and home, may angels turn me out of Heaven. As they would!
And serve me right!"
Her old face, which had been a plump and dimpled one before
the changes which had come to pass, seemed to shine out of her
as she said these words; and when she dried her eyes, and shook
her head and her handkerchief at Tugby, with an expression of
firmness which it was quite clear was not to be easily resisted,
Trotty said, "Bless her! Bless her!"
Then he listened, with a panting heart, for what should follow.
Knowing nothing yet, but that they spoke of Meg.
If Tugby had been a little elevated in the parlor, he more than
balanced that account by being not a little depressed in the
shop, where he now stood staring at his wife, without attempting




ï~~196

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

a reply; secretly conveying, however-either in a fit of abstraction or as a precautionary measure-all the money from the till
into his own pockets, as he looked at her.
The gentleman upon the table-beer cask, who appeared to be
some authorized medical attendant upon the poor, was far too
well accustomed, evidently, to little differences of opinion between
man and wife, to interpose any remark in this instance. He sat
softly whistling, and turning little drops of beer out of the tap
upon the ground, until there was a perfect calm: when he raised
his head, and said to Mrs. Tugby, late Chickenstalker:
" There's something interesting about the woman, even now.
How did she come to marry him?"
" Why that," said Mrs. Tugby, taking a seat near him, "is
not the least cruel part of her story, Sir. You see they kept
company, she and Richard, many years ago. When they were
a young and beautiful couple, everything was settled, and they
were to have been married on a New Year's Day. But, somehow, Richard got it into his head, through what the gentlemen
told him, that he might do better, and that he'd soon repent it,
and that she wasn't good enough for him, and that a young man
of spirit had no business to be married. And the gentlemen
frightened her, and made her melancholy, and timid of his deserting her, and of her children coming to the gallows, and of its
being wicked to be man and wife, and a good deal more of it.
And in short, they lingered and lingered, and their trust in one
another was broken, and so at last was the match. But the fault
was his. She would have married him, Sir, joyfully. I've seen
her heart swell, many times afterwards, when he passed her in
a proud and careless way; and never did a woman grieve more
truly for a man, than she for Richard when he first went wrong."
"Oh! he went wrong, did he?" said the gentleman, pulling
out the vent-peg of the table-beer, and trying to peep down into
the barrel through the hole.




ï~~THE  CHIMES.

197

"Well, Sir, I don't know that he rightly understood himself, you
see. I think his mind was troubled by their having broke with
one another; and that but for being ashamed before the gentlemen,
and perhaps for being uncertain too, how she might take it, he'd
have gone through any suffering or trial to have had Meg's promise and Meg's hand again. That's my belief. He never said
so; more's the pity! He took to drinking, idling, bad companions: all the fine resources that were to be so much better for
him than the Home he might have had. He lost his looks, his
character, his health, his strength, his friends, his work: everything!"
"He didn't lose everything, Mrs. Tugby," returned the gentleman, " because he gained a wife; and I want to know how he
gained her."
"I'm coming to it, Sir, in a moment. This went on for years
and years; he sinking lower and lower; she enduring, poor
thing, miseries enough to wear her life away. At last, he was
so cast down, and cast out, that no one would employ or notice
him; and doors were shut upon him, go where he would. Applying from place to place, and door to door; and coming for the
hundredth time to one gentleman who had often and often tried
him (he was a good workman to the very end): that gentleman,
who knew his history, said, ' I believe you are incorrigible; there
is only one person in the world who has a chance of reclaiming
you; ask me to trust you no more, until she tries to do it.'
Something like that, in his anger and vexation."
"Ah!" said the gentleman. " Well?"
" Well, sir, he went to her, and kneeled to her; said it was
so; said it ever haa been; and made a prayer to her to save
him."
" And she-Don't distress yourself, Mrs. Tugby."
" She came to me that night to ask me about living here.
' What he was once to me,' she said, ' is buried with the grave;




ï~~198

CIHRIISTMAS STORIES.

side by side witn what I was to him. But I have thougat of
this; and I will make the trial. In the hope of saving nim;
for the love of the light-hearted girl (you remember her) who
was to have been married on a New Year's Day; and for
the love of her Richard.' And she said he had come to her
from Lilian, and Lilian had trusted to him, and she never could
forget that. So they were married; and when they came home
here, and I saw them, I hoped that such prophecies as parted
them when they were young, may not often fulfil themselves as
they did in this case, or I wouldn't be the makers of them for a
Mine of Gold."
The gentleman got off the cask, and stretched himself: observing,
"I suppose he used her ill, as soon as they were married?"
"I don't think he ever did that," said Mrs. Tugby, shaking
her head, and wiping her eyes. "He went on better for a short
time; but his habits were too old and strong to be got rid of; he
soon fell back a little; and was falling fast back, when his illness came so strong upon him. I think he has always felt for
her. I am sure he has. I've seen him, in his crying fits and
tremblings, try to kiss her hand; and I've heard him call her
'Meg,' and say it was her nineteenth birthday. There he has
been lying now, these weeks and months. Between him and her
baby, she has not been able to do her old work; and by not being
able to be regular, she has lost it, even if she could have done it.
How they have lived, I hardly know!"
" I know," muttered Mr. Tugby; looking at the till, and
round the shop, and at his wife; and rolling his head with immense intelligence. "Like Fighting Cocks!"
He was interrupted by a cry-a sound of lamentation-from
the upper story of the house. The gentleman moved hurriedly
to the door.
" My friend," he said, looking back, "you needn't discuss




ï~~THE CHIMES.

199

whether he shall be removed or not. He has spared you that
trouble, I believe."
Saying so, he ran up stairs, followed by Mrs. Tugby; while
Mr. Tugby panted and grumbled after them at leisure: being
rendered more than commonly short-winded by the weight of the
till, in which there had been an inconvenient quantity of copper.
Trotty, with the child beside him, floated up the staircase like
mere air.
" Follow her! Follow her! Follow her!"  He heard the
ghostly voices in the Bells repeat their words as he ascended.
"Learn it from the creature dearest to your heart!"
It was over! It was over! And this was she, her father's
pride and joy! This haggard, wretched woman, weeping by the
bed, if it deserved that name, and pressing to her breast, and
hanging down her head upon an infant. Who can tell how spare,
how sickly, and how poor an infant?  Who can tell how dear!
" Thank God!" cried Trotty, holding up his folded hands.
"Oh, God be thanked! She loves her child!"
The gentleman, not otherwise hard-hearted or indifferent to
such scenes, than that he saw them every day, and knew that
they were figures of no moment in the Filer sums-mere
scratches in the working of those calculations--laid his hand
upon the heart that beat no more, and listened for the breath, and
said, " His pain is over. It's better as it is!"  Mrs. Tugby
t-ied to comfort her with kindness. Mr. Tugby tried philosophy.
" Come, come!" he said, with his hands in his pockets, " you
musn't give way, you know. That won't do. You must fight
up. What would have become of me, if I had given way when
I was a porter; and we had as many as six runaway carriage.
doubles at our door in one night! But I fell back upon my
strength of mind, and didn't open it!"
Again Trotty heard the voices, saying, " Follow her!" le




ï~~200

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

turned towards his guide, and saw it rising from him, passing
through the air. " Follow her!" it said. And vanished.
He hovered round her; sat down at her feet; looked up into her
face for one trace of her old self; listened for one note of her old
pleasant voice. He flitted round the child: so wan, so prematurely
old, so dreadful in its gravity, so plaintive in its feeble, mournful,
miserable wail. He almost worshipped it. He clung to it as
her only safeguard; as the last unbroken link that bound her to
endurance, lie set his father's hope and trust on the frail baby;
watched her every look upon it as she held it in her arms; and
cried a thousand times, " She loves it! God be thanked, she
loves it!"
He saw the woman tend her in the night; return to her when
her grudging husband was asleep, and all was still; encourage
her, shed tears with her, set nourishment before her. He saw
the day come, and the night again; the day, the night; the time
go by; the house of death relieved of death; the roomn left to
herself and to the child; he heard it moan and cry; be saw it
harass her, and tire her out, and when she slumbered in exhaustion, drag her back to consciousness, and hold her with its little
hands upon the rack; but she was constant to it, gentle with it,
patient with it. Patient! Was its loving mother in her inmost
heart and soul, and had its Being knitted up with hers a when
she carried it unborn.
Ail this time, she was in want; languishing away, in di e and
pining want. With the baby in her arms, she wandered here
and there, in quest of occupation; and with its thin face lying in
her lap, and looking up in hers, did any work for any wretched
sum: a day and night of labor for as many farthings as there
were figures on the dial. If she had quarrelled with it; if she
had neglected it; if she had looked upon it with a moment's h,'te;
if, in the frenzy of an instant, she had struck it! No. His
comfort was, She loved it always.




ï~~THE CHIMES.

201

She told no one of her extremity, and wandered abroaa min tne
day lest she should be questioned by her only friend; for any
help she received from her hands, occasioned fresh disputes between the good woman and her husband; and it was new bitterness to be the daily cause of strife and discord, where she owed
so much.
She loved it still. She loved it more and more. But a change
fell on the aspect of her love. One night.
She was singing faintly to it in its sleep, and walking to and
fro to hush it, when her door was softly opened and a man
looked in.
"For the last time," he said.
" William Fern!"
" For the last time."
He listened like a man pursued: and spoke in whispers.
"Margaret, my race is nearly run. I couldn't finish it, without
a parting word with you. Without one grateful word."
"What have you done?" she asked: regarding him with terror.
He looked at her, but gave no answer.
After a short silence, he made a gesture with his hand, as if
he set her question by; as if he brushed it aside; and said,
" It's long ago, Margaret, now: but that night is as fresh in
my memory as ever 'twas. We little hought, then," he added,
looking round, " that we should ever meet like this. Your child,
Margaret? Let me have it in my arms. Let me hold your
child."
He put his hat upon the floor, and took it. And he trembled
as he took it from head to foot.
" Is it a girl?"
" Yes."
He put his hand before its little face.
"See how weak I'm grown, Margaret, when I want the cour.




ï~~202

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

age to look at it! Let her be a moment. I won't hurt her. It's
long ago, but-What's her name?"
"Margaret," she answered, quickly
"I'm glad of that," he said. "I'm glad of that."
He seemed to breathe more freely; and after pausing for an
instant, took away his hand, and looked upon the infant's face.
But covered it again, immediately.
"Margaret!" he said; and gave her back the child. "It's
Li ian's."
" Lilian's!"
" I held the same face in my arms when Lilian's mother died
and left her."
"When Lilian's mother died and left her!" she repeated
wildly.
"How shrill you speak! Why do you fix your eyes on me
so? Margaret!"
She sunk down in a chair, and pressed the infant to her breast,
and wept over it. Sometimes she released it from her embrace,
to look anxiously in its face: then strained it to her bosom again.
At those times: when she gazed upon it: then it was that something fierce and terrible began to mingle with her love. Then it
was that her old father quailed.
"Follow her!" was sounded through the house. "Learn it,
from the creature nearest to your heart!"
" Margaret," said Fern, bending over her, and kissing her
upon the brow: "I thank you for the last time. Good night.
Good bye. Put your hand in mine, and tell me you'll forget me
from this hour, and try to think the end of me was here."
" What have you done!" she asked again.
" There'll be a Fire to-night," he said, removing from her.
' There'll be fires this winter-time to light the dark nights, East,
Wes:, North, and South. When you see the distant sky red,
they'll be blazing. When you see the distant sky red, think of




ï~~THE CHIMES.

203

me no more; or if you do, remember what a Hell was lighted up
inside of me, and think you see its Flames reflected in the clouds.
Good night. Good bye!"
She called to him; but he was gone. She sat down stupefied,
until her infant roused her to a sense of hunger, cold, and darkness. She paced the room with it the livelong night, hushing it
and soothing it. She said at intervals, " like Lilian, when her
mother died and left her!" Why was her step so quick, her eye
so wild, her love so fierce and terrible, whenever she repeated
those words?
" But it is Love," said Trotty. "It is Love. She'll never
cease to love it. My poor Meg."
She dressed the child next morning with unusual care-ah,
vain expenditure of care upon such squalid robes!-and once
more tried to find some means of life. It was the last day of the
Old Year. She tried till night, and never broke her fast. She
tried in vain.
She mingled with an abject crowd, who tarried in the snow,
until it pleased some officer appointed to dispense the public
charity (the lawful charity; not that, once preached upon a
Mount), to call them in, and question them, and say to this one,
"go to such a place," to that one, " come next week;" to make
a football of another wretch, and pass him here and there, from
hand to hand, from house to house, until he wearied and lay
down to die; or started up and robbed, and so became a higher
sort of criminal, whose claims allowed of no delay. Here, too,
she failed. She loved her child, and wished to have it lying on
her breast. And that was quite enough.
It was night: a bleak, dark, cutting night: when, pressing the
child close to her for warmth, she arrived outside the house she
called her home. She was so faint and giddy, that she saw no one
standing in the doorway until she was close upon it, and about to
enter. Then she recognized the master of the house, who had




ï~~204

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

so disposed himself-with his person it was not difficult-as to
fiil up the whole entry.
"Oh!" he said softly. "You have come back?"
She looked at the child, and shook her head.
" Don't you think you have lived here long enough without
paying any rent? Don't you think that, without any money,
you've been a pretty constant customer at this shop, now?"
said Mr. Tugby.
She repeated the same mute appeal.
" Suppose you try and deal somewhere else," he said. " And
suppose you provide yourself with another lodging. Come!
Don't you think you could manage it?"
She said, in a low voice, that it was very late. To-morrow.
"Now I see what you want," said Tugby; "and what you
mean. You know there are two parties in this house about you,
and you delight in setting 'em by the ears. I don't want any
quarrels; I'm speaking softly to avoid a quarrel; but if you
don't go away, I'll speak out loud, and you shall cause words
high enough to please you. But you shan't come in. That I
am determined."
She put her hair back with her hand, and looked in a sudden
manner at the sky, and the dark lowering distance.
" This is the last night of an Old Year: and I won't carry ill
blood and quarrellings and disturbances into a New One, to
please you nor anybody else," said Tugby, who was quite a retail
Friend and Father. " I wonder you an't ashamed of yourself,
to carry such practices into a New Year. If you haven't any
business in the world, but to be always giving way, and always
naking disturbances between man and wife, you'd better be out
of it. Go along with you."
" Follow her! To desperation!"
Again the old man heard the voices. Looking un he saw the




ï~~THE CHIMES.

205

figures hovering in the air, and pointing where she went, down
the dark street.
" She loves it!" he exclaimed, in agonized entreaty for her.
"Chimes! She loves it still!"
" Follow her!"  The shadows swept upon tl e track she had
taken, like a cloud.
He joined in the pursuit; he kept close to her; he looked into
her face. He saw the same fierce and terrible expression mingling with her love, and kindling in her eyes. He heard her say,
"Like Lilian! To be changed like Lilian!" and her speed redoubled.
Oh, for something to awaken her! For any sight, or sound,
or scent, to call up tender recollections in a brain on fire! For
any gentle image of the Past, to rise before her!
"I was her father! I was her father!" cried the old man,
stretching out his hands to the dark shadows flying on above.
"Have mercy on her and on me! Where does she go? Turn
her back! I was her father!"
But they only pointed to her, as she hurried on; and said, "To
desperation! Learn it from the creature dearest to your heart!"
A hundred voices echoed it. The air was made of breath expended in those words. He seemed to take them in, at every
gasp he drew. They were everywhere, and not to be escaped.
and still she hurried on; the same light in her eyes, the same
words in her mouth; "Like Lilian! To be changed like Lilian!"
All at once she stopped.
" Now turn her back!" exclaimed the old man, tearing his
white hair. " My child! Meg! Turn her back! Great Father!
turn her back!"
In her own scanty shawl she wrapped the baby warm. With
her fevered hands she smoothed its limbs, composed its face, arranged its mean attire. In her wasted arms she folded it, as




ï~~200

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

though she never would resign it more. And with her dry lips,
kissed it in a final pang, and last long agony of Love.
Putting its tiny hand up to her neck, and holding it there, with.
in her dress: next to her distracted heart she set its sleeping
face against her: closely, steadily, against her: and sped onward to the river.
To the rolling River, swift and dim, where Winter Night sat
brooding like the last dark thoughts of many who had sought a
refuge there before her. Where scattered lights upon the banks
gleamed sullen, red, and dull, as torches that were burning there,
to show the way to Death. Where no abode of living people cast
its shadow, on the deep, impenetrable, melancholy shade.
To the River! To that portal of Eternity, her desperate footsteps tended with the swiftness of its rapid waters running to the
sea. Hle tried to touch her as she passed him, going down to its
dark level; but the wild distempered form, the fierce and terrible love, the desperation that had left all human check or hold
behind, swept by him like the wind.
He followed her. She paused a moment on the brink, before
the dreadful plunge. He fell down on his knees, and in a shriek
addressed the figures in the Bells now hovering above them.
"I have learnt it!" cried the old man. "From the creature
dearest to my heart! Oh, save her, save her!"
He could wind his fingers in her dress; could hold it! As the
words escaped his lips he felt his sense of touch return, and knew
that he detained her.
The figures looked down steadfastly upon him.
"I have learnt it!" cried the old man. " Oh, have mercy on
me in this hour, if, in my love for her, so young and good, I
slandered Nature in the breasts of mothers, rendered desperate!
Pity my presumption, wickedness, and ignorance, and save her!"
He felt his hold relaxing. They were silent still.
" Have mercy on her!" he exclaimed, " as one in whom this




ï~~THE CHIMES.

207

dreadful crime has sprung from  Love perverted; from   tne
strongest, deepest Love we fallen creatures know! Think what
her misery must have been, when such seed bears such fruit!
Heaven meant her to be Good. There is no loving mother on the
earth who might not come to this, if such a life had gone before.
Oh, have mercy on my child, who, even at this pass, means
mercy to her own, and dies herself, and perils her Immortal Soul,
to save it!"
She was in his arms. He held her now. His strength was
like a giant's.
"I see the spirit of the Chimes among you!" cried the old man,
singling out the child, and speaking in some inspiration, which
their looks conveyed to him. " I know that our Inheritance is
held in store for us by Time. I know there is a Sea of Time to
rise one day, before which all who wrong us or oppress us will be
swept away like leaves. I see it, on the flow! I know that we
must trust and hope, and neither doubt ourselves, nor doubt the
Good in one another. I have learnt it from the creature dearest
to my heart. I clasp her in my arms again. Oh, Spirits, merciful and good, I take your lesson to my breast along with her!
Oh, Spirits, merciful and good, I am grateful!"
He might have said more, but the Bells; the old familiar Bells;
his own dear, constant, steady friends, the Chimes; began to ring
the joy-peals for a New Year, so lustily, so merrily, so happily,
so gaily, that he leapt upon his feet, and broke the spell that
bound him.
"And whatever you do, father," said Meg, "don't eat tripe
again, without asking some doctor whether it's likely to agree with
you; for how you have been going on, Good gracious!"
She was working with her needle, at the little table by the fire;
dressing her simple gown with ribbons for her wedding. So
quietly happy, so blooming and youthful, so full of beautiful




ï~~208

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

promise, that he uttered a great cry as if it were an Angel in his
house; then flew to clasp her in his arms.
But he caught his feet in the newspaper, which had fallen on
the hearth; and somebody came rushing in between them.
"No!" cried the voice of this same somebody; a generous and
jolly voice it was! " Not even you. Not even you. The first
kiss of Meg in the New Year is mine. Mine! I have been
waiting outside the house, this hour, to hear the Bells and claim
it. Meg, my precious prize, a happy year! A life of happy
years, my darling wife!"
And Richard smothered her with kisses.
You never in all your life saw anything like Trotty after this.
I don't care where you have lived or what you have seen; you
never in your life saw anything at all approaching him! He sat
down in his chair and beat his knees and cried; he sat down in
his chair and beat his knees and laughed; he sat down in his
chair and beat his knees and laughed and cried together; he got
out of his chair and hugged Meg; he got out of his chair and
hugged Richard; he got out of his chair and hugged them both
at once; he kept running up to Meg, and squeezing her fresh face
between his hands and kissing it, going from her backwards not
to lose sight of it, and running up again like a figure in a magic
lantern; and whatever he did, he was constantly sitting himself
down in this chair, and never stopping in it for one single moment;
being-that's the truth-beside himself with joy.
"And to-morrow's your wedding.day, my Pet!" cried Trotty.
"Your real, happy wedding-day!"
" To-day!" cried Richard, shaking hands with him. " To-day.
The Chimes are ringing in the New Year. Hear them!"
They WERE ringing! Bless their sturdy hearts, they WERE
ringing! Great Bells as they were; melodious, deep-mouthed,
noble Bells; cast in no common metal; made by no common
founder; when had they ever Chimed like that, before!




ï~~THE CHIMES.

209

"But to-day, my Pet," said Trotty. "You and Richard hao
some words to-day."
"Because he's such a bad fellow, father," said Meg. "An't
you, Richard? Such a headstrong, violent man! He'd have
made no more of speaking his mind to that great Alderman, and
putting him down I don't know where, than he would of-"
"-Kissing Meg," suggested Richard. Doing it too!
"No. Not a bit more," said Meg. "But I wouldn't let him,
father. Where would have been the use!"
" Richard, my boy!" cried Trotty. "You was turned up
Trumps originally; and Trumps you must be till you die! But
you were crying by the fire to-night, my Pet, when I came home!
Why did you cry by the fire?"
" I was thinking of the years we've passed together, father.
Only that. And thinking you might miss me, and be lonely."
Trotty was backing off to that extraordinary chair again, when
the child, who had been awakened by the noise, came running in
half-dressed.
" Why, here she is!" cried Trotty, catching her up. "Here's
little Lilian! Ha, ha, ha! Here we are and here we go! Oh
here we are and here we go again! And here we are and here
we go! And Uncle Will too!"   Stopping in his trot to gree,,
him heartily. " Oh, Uncle Will, the Vision that I've had to-night
through lodging you! Oh Uncle Will, the obligations that you've
laid me under, by your coming, my good friend!"
Before Will Fern could make the least reply, a Band of Music
burst into the room, attended by a flock of neighbors, screaming
"A Happy New Year, Meg!"   " A Happy Wedding!"  "Many
of 'emr!" and other fragmentary good wishes of that sort. The
Drumrn (who was a private friend of Trotty's) then stepped forward, and said:
"Trotty Veck, my boy! It's got about, that your daughter
is going to be married to-morrow. There an't a soul that knows
you that don't wish you well, or that knows hei and don't wish
13




ï~~210

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

her well. Or that knows you both, and don't wish you both all
the happiness the New Year can bring. And here we are, to
play it in and dance it in accordingly."
Which was received with a general shout. The Drum war
rather drunk, by-the-bye; but never mind.
" What a happiness it is, I'm sure," said Trotty, 'to be so
esteemed! How kind and neighborly you are! It's all along
of my dear daughter. She deserves it!"
They were ready for a dance in half a second (Meg and
Richard at the top); and the Drum was on the very brink of
leathering away with all his power; when a combination of pro.
digious sounds was heard outside, and a good-humored comely
woman of some fifty years of age, or thereabouts, came running
in, attended by a man bearing a stone pitcher of terrific size, and
closely followed by the marrow-bones and cleavers, and the bells:
not the Bells, but a portable collection, on a frame.
Trotty said, "It's Mrs. Chickenstalker!"  And sat down, and
beat his knees again.
"Married, and not tell me, Meg!" cried the good woman.
"Never! I couldn't rest on the last night of the Old Year with.
out coming to wish you joy. I couldn't have done it, Meg. Not
if I had been bed-ridden. So here I am; and as it's New Year's
Eve, and the Eve of your wedding too, my dear, I had a little
flip made, and brought it with me."
Mrs. Chickenstalker's notion of a little flip did honor to her
character. The pitcher steamed and smoked and reeked like a
volcano; and the man who had carried it, was faint.
" Mrs. Tugby!" said Trotty, who had been going round and
round her, in an ecstasy. "1 should say, Chickenstalker-Bless
your heart and soul! A happy New Year, and many of 'em!
Mrs. Tugby," said Trotty when he had saluted her; "I should
say, Chickenstalker-This is William Fern and Lilian."
The worthy dame, to his surprise, turned very pale and very
red




ï~~


ï~~t\ \2
I

C(

iI~ I

TROTTY VECK AND MRS. CHICKENSTALKER LEADING THlE DANCE.




ï~~THE CHIMES.

211

" Not Lilian Fern whose mother died in Dorsetshire!" said
she.
Her uncle answered, "Yes, ' and meeting hastily, they exchanged some hurried words together; of which the upshot was,
that Mrs. Chickenstalker shook him by both hands; saluted
Trotty on his check again, of her own free will; and took the
child to her capacious breast.
s; Will Fern!" said Trotty, pulling on his right-hand muffler.
"Not the friend that you was hoping to find?"
"Aye!" returned Will, putting a hand on each of Trotty's
shoulders. "And like to prove a'most as good a friend, if that
can be, as one I found."
"Oh!" said Trotty. "Please to play up there. Will you
have the goodness!"
To the music of the band, the bells, the marrow-bones and
cleavers, all at once; and while The Chimes were y et in lusty
operation out of doors; Trotty, making Meg and Richard second
couple, led off Mrs. Chickenstalker down the dance, and danced
it in a step unknown before or since; founded on his own peculiar trot.
Had Trotty dreamed? Or are his joys and sorrows, and the
actors in them, but a dream; himsfel a dream; the teller of this
tale a dreamer, waking but now? If it be so, oh Listener, dear
to him in all his visions, try to bear in mind the stern realities
from which these shadows come; and in your sphere-none is
too wide, and none too limited for such an end-endeavor to correct, improve, and soften them. So may the New Year be a
Happy one to You, Happy to many more whose Happiness depends on You! So may each Year be happier than the last, and
not the meanest of our brethren or sisterhood debarred their
rightful share, in what our Great Creator formed them to enjoy.




ï~~


ï~~THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.
1! 1afr8 yak of mome.




ï~~


ï~~THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.
CHIRP THE FIRST.
THE kettle began it! Don't tell me what Mrs. Peerybingle said.
I know better. Mrs. Peerybingle may leave it on record to the
end of time that she couldn't say which of them began it; but I
say the Kettle did. I ought to know, I hope? The Kettle began
it, full five minutes by the little waxy-faced Dutch clock in the
corner before the Cricket uttered a chirp.
As if the clock hadn't finished striking, and the convulsive
little Haymaker at the top of it, jerking away right and left with
a scythe in front of a Moorish Palace, hadn't mowed down half
an acre of imaginary grass before the Cricket joined in at all!
Why, I am not naturally positive. Every one knows that. I
wouldn't set my own opinion against the opinion of Mrs. Peerybingle,
unless 1 were quite sure, on any account whatever. Nothing
should induce me. But this is a question of fact. And the fact
is, that the Kettle began it, at least five minutes before the
Cricket gave any sign of being in existence. Contradict me;
and I'll say ten.
Let me narrate exactly how it happened. I should have pro.
ceeded to do so, in my very first word, but for this plain consideration-if I am to tell a story I must begin at the beginning; and
how is it possible to begin at the beginning, without beginning at
the Kettle?
215




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

It appeared as if there were a sort of match, or trial of sKill,
you must understand, between the Kettle and the Cricket. And
this is what led to it, and how it came about.
Mrs. Peerybingle going out into the raw twilight, and clicking
over the wet stones in a pair of pattens that worked innumerable
rough impressions of the first proposition in Euclid all about the
yard-Mrs. Peerybingle filled the Kettle at the water butt. Presently returning, less the pattens; and a good deal less, for they
were tall and Mrs. Peerybingle was but short; she set the Kettle
on the fire. In doing which she lost her temper, or mislaid it for
an instant; for the water-being uncomfortably cold, and in that
slippy, slushy, sleety sort of state wherein it seems to penetrate
through every kind of substance, patten rings included-had laid
hold of Mrs. Peerybingle's toes, and even splashed her legs.
And when we rather plume ourselves (with reason too) upon our
legs, and keep ourselves particularly neat in point of stockings,
we find this, for the moment, hard to bear.
Besides, the Kettle was aggravating and obstinate. It wouldn't
allow itself to be adjusted on the top bar; it wouldn't hear of
accommodating itself kindly to the knobs of coal; it would lean
forward with a drunken air, and dribble, a very Idiot of a Kettle
on the hearth. It was quarrelsome, and hissed and spluttered
morosely at the fire. To sum up all, the lid resisting Mrs. Peeryningie's fingers, first of all turned topsy-turvy, and then, with an
ingenious pertinacity deserving of a better cause, dived sideway
in-down to the very bottom of the Kettle. And the hull of the
Royal George has never made half of the monstrous resistance
to coming out of the water, which the lid of the Kettle employed
against Mrs. Peerybingle, before she got it up again.
It looked sullen and pig-headed enough, even then; carrying
its handle with an air of defiance, and cocking its spout pertly
and mockingly at Mrs. Peerybingle, as if it said, "I won't boil.
Nothing shall induce me!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

217

But Mrs. Peerybingle, with restored good-humor, dusted her chubby little hands against each other, and sat down before the Kettle:
laughing. Meantime the jolly blaze uprose and fell, flashing and
gleaming on the little Haymaker at the top of the Dutch clock,
until one might have thought he stood stock-still before the Moorish Palace, and nothing was in motion but the flame.
He was on the move, however; and had his spasms, two to the
second, all right and regular. But his sufferings, when the clock
was going to strike, were frightful to behold; and when a Cuckoo
looked out of a trap-door in the Palace, and gave note six times,
it shook him, each time, like a spectral voice-or like a something
wiry, plucking at his legs.
It was not until a violent commotion and a whirling noise
among the weights and ropes below him had quite subsided, that
this terrified Haymaker became himself again. Nor was he
startled without reason; for these rattling, bony skeletons of
clocks are very disconcerting in their operation, and I wonder
very much how any set of men, but most of all how Dutchmen,
can have had a liking to invent them. For there is a popular
belief that Dutchmen love broad cases and much clothing for
their own lower selves; and they might know better than to leave
their clocks so very lank and unprotected, surely.
Now it was, you observe, that the Kettle began to spend the
evening. Now it was, that the Kettle, growing mellow and musical, began to have irrepressible gurglings in the throat, and to
indulge in short vocal snorts, which it checked in the bud, as if
it hadn't quite made up its mind yet, to be good company. Now
it was, that after tÂ~o or three such vain attempts to stifle its con.
vivial sentiments, it threw off all moroseness, all reserve, and
burst into a stream of song so cosy and hilarious, as never maudlin nightingale yet formed the least idea of.
"So plain, too! Bless you, you might have understood it like
a book-better than some books you and I could name, perhaps.




ï~~218

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

With its warm breath gushing forth in a light cloud which merri.
ly and gracefully ascended a few feet, then hung about the chimney-corner as its own domestic Heaven, it trolled its song with
that strong energy of cheerfulness, that its iron body hummed and
stirred upon the fire; and the lid itself, the recently rebellious lid
-such is the influence of a bright example-performed a sort of
jig, and clattered like a deaf and dumb young cymbal that had
never known the use of its twin brother.
That this song of the Kettle's was a song of invitation and
welcome to somebody out of doors; to somebody at that moment
coming on, towards the snug small home and the crisp fire: there
is no doubt whatever. Mrs. Peerybingle knew it, perfectly, as
she sat musing, before the hearth. It's a dark night, sang the
Kettle, and the rotten leaves are lying by the way; and above
all is mist and darkness, and below, all is mire and clay; and
there's only one relief in all the sand and murky air; and I don't
know that it is one, for it's nothing but a glare, of deep and angry crimson, where the sun and wind together, set a brand upon
the clouds for being guilty of such weather; and the widest open
country is a long dull streak of black; and there's hoar frost on
the finger-post, and thaw upon the track; and the ice it isn't water, and the water isn't free; and you couldn't say that anything
is what it ought to be; but he's coming, coming, coming!And here, if you like, the Cricket DID chime in with a Chirrup,
Chirrup, Chirrup of such magnitude, by way of chorus; with a
voice, so astoundingly disproportionate to its size, as compared with
the Kettle (size you couldn't See it!) that if it had then and there
burst itself like an overcharged gun; if it had fallen a victim on
the spot, and chirruped its little body into fifty pieces; it would
have seemed a natural and inevitable consequence, for which it
had expressly labored.
The Kettle had had the last of its solo performances. It persevered with undiminished ardor; but the Cricket took first fiddle




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

219

and kept it. Good Heaven-how it chirped! Its shrill, sharo,
piercing voice resounded through the house, and seemed ta
twinkle in the outer darkness like a star. There was an indescribable little trill and tremble in it, at its loudest, which suggested its being carried off its legs, and made to leap again, by
its own intense enthusiasm. Yet they went very well together,
the Cricket and the Kettle. The burden of the song was still
the same; and louder, louder, louder still, they sang it in their
emulation.
The fair little listener; for fair she was, and young-though
something of what is called the dumpling shape; but I don't
myself object to that-lighted a candle; glanced at the Haymaker
on the top of the clock, who was getting in a pretty average crop of
minutes; and looked out of the window, where she saw nothing,
owing to the darkness, but her own face imaged in the glass.
And my opinion is (and so would your's have been), that she
might have looked a long way, and seen nothing half so agreeable. When she came back, and sat down in her former seat, the
Cricket and the Kettle were still keeping it up, with a perfect
fury of competition. The Kettle's weak side clearly being that
he didn't know when he was beat.
There was all the excitement of a race about it. Chirp, chirp,
chirp!  Cricket a mile ahead.  Hum, hum, hum-m-m!
Kettle making play in the distance, like a great top. Chirp,
chirp, chirp!-Cricket round the corner. Hum, hum, hum-m-m!
Kettle sticking to him in his own way; no idea of giving in.Chirp, chirp, chirp! Cricket fresher than ever. Hum, hum,
hum-m-m! Kettle slow and steady. Chirp, chirp, chirp!
Cricket going in to finish him. Hum, hum, hum-m-m! Ket.
tle not to be finished. Until at last, they got so jumbled together, in
the hurry-skurry, helter-skelter, of the match, that whether the
Kettle chirped and the Cricket hummed, or the Cricket chirped
and the Kettle hummed, or they both chirped and both hummed,




ï~~220

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

it would have taken a clearer head than your's or mine to have
decided with anything like certainty. But of this there is n.
doubt: that the Kettle and the Cricket, at one and the same mo
ment, and by some power of amalgamation best known to themselves, sent, each, his fireside song of comfort streaming into a
ray of the candle that shone out through the window; and a long
way down the lane. And this light, bursting on a certain person
who, on the instant, approached towards it through the gloom, ex.
pressed the whole thing to him, literally in a twinkling, and cried,
" Welcome home, old fellow! Welcome home, my Boy."
This end attained, the Kettle, being dead beat, boiled over, and
was taken off the fire. Mrs. Peerybingle then went running to
the door, where, what with the wheels of a cart, the tramp of a
horse, the voice of a man, the tearing in and out of an excited dog,
and the surprising and mysterious appearance of a Baby, there
was soon the very What's-his-name to pay.
Where the Baby came from, or how Mrs. Peerybingle got hold
of it in that flash of time, I don't know. But a live Baby there
was, in Mrs. Peerybingle's arms; and a pretty tolerable amount
of pride she seemed to have in it, when she was drawn gently to
the fire by a sturdy figure of a man, much taller and much older
than herself; who had to stoop a long way down, to kiss her.
But she was worth the trouble. Six foot six, with the lumbago,
might have done it.
"Oh goodness, John!" said Mrs. P. "What a state you're in
with the weather!"
IHe was something the worse for it, undeniably. The thick
mist hung in clots upon his eyelashes like candied thaw; and between the fog and fire together, there were rainbows in his very
whiskers.
"Why, you see, Dot," John made answer, slowly, as he un.
rolled a shawl from about his throat; and warmed his hands;
"it-it ain't exactly summer weather.-So, no wonder."




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

221

c I wish you wouldn't call me Dot, John. I don't like i,'
said Mrs Peerybingle: pouting in a way that clearly showed she
did like it, very much.
" Why what else are you?" returned John, looking down upon
her with a smile, and giving ner waist as light a squeeze as his
huge hand and arm could give. "A dot and "-here he glanced
at the Baby-" a dot and carry-I won't say it, for fear I should
spoil it; but I was very near a joke. I don't know as ever I
was nearer."
He was often near to something or other very clever, by his
own account: this lumbering, slow, honest John; this John so
heavy, but so light of spirit; so rough upon the surface, but so
gentle at the core; so dull without, so quick within; so stolid,
but so good. Oh Mother Nature, give thy children the true
Poetry of Heart that hid itself in this poor Carrier's breast-he
was but a Carrier by the way-and we can bear to have them
talking Prose, and leading lives of Prose; and bear to bless thee
for their company!
It was pleasant to see Dot, with her little figure and her Baby
in her arms: a very doll of a Baby: glancing with a coquettish
thoughtfulness at the fire, and inclining her delicate little head
just enough on one side to let it rest in an odd, half-natural, halfaffected, wholly nestling and agreeable manner, on the great
rugged figure of the Carrier. It was pleasant to see him, with
his tender awkwardness, endeavoring to adapt his rude support to
her slight need, and make his burly middle-age a leaning staff
not inappropriate to her blooming youth. It was pleasant to
observe how Tilly Slowboy, waiting in the background for the
Baby, took special cognizance (though in her earliest teens) of
this grouping; and stood with her mouth and eyes wide open,
and her head thrust forward, taking it in as if it were air. Nor
was it less agreeable tu ouserve how John the Carrier, reference
being made by Dot to the aforesaid Baby, checked his hand




ï~~222

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

when on the point of touching the infant, as if he thought he
might crack it; and bending down, surveyed it from a safe dis.
tance, with a kind of puzzled pride: such as an amiable mastiff
might be supposed to show, if he found himself, one day, the
father of a young canary.
"Ain't he beautiful, John? Don't he look precious in his
sleep?"
"Very precious," said John. "Very much so. He generally
is asleep, ain't he?"
"Lor, John! Good gracious, no!"
"Oh," said John, pondering. "I thought his eyes was generally shut. Halloa!"
"Goodness, John, how you startle one!"
"It ain't right for him to turn 'em up in that way," said the
astonished Carrier, " is it? See how he's winking with both of
'em at once! and look at his mouth! why he's gasping like a
gold and silver fish!"
" You don't deserve to be a father, you don't," said Dot, with
all the dignity of an experienced matron. "But how should you
know what little complaints children are troubled with, John?
You wouldn't so much as know their names, you stupid fellow."
And when she had turned the Baby over on her left arm, and had
slapped its back as a restorative, she pinched her husband's ear,
laughing.
"No," said John, pulling off his outer coat. "It's very true,
Dot. I don't know much about it. I only know that I've been
fighting pretty stiffly with the Wind to-night. It's been blowing
north-east straight into the cart, the whole way home "
"Poor old man, so it has!" cried Mrs. Peerybingle, instantly
becoming very active. "Here! Take the precious darling,
Tilly, while I make myself of some use. Bless it, I could
smother it with kissing it; I could! Hie then, good dog!
hie, Boxer, boy! Only let me make the tea first, John; and then




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

223

1 'll help you with the parcels, like a busy bee. 'How doth the
little '-and all the rest of it, you Know, John. Did you ever
learn ' how doth the little.' when you went to school, John?"
" Not to quite know it," John returned. "I was very near it
once. But I should only have spoilt it, I dare say."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Dot. She had the blithest little laugh you
ever heard. "What a dear old darling of a dunce you are, John,
lo be sure!"
Not at all disputing this position, John went out to see that the
boy with the lantern, which had been dancing to and fro before
the door and window, like a Will-o'-the-Wisp, took due care of
the horse; who was fatter than you would quite believe, if I
gave you his measure, and so old that his birthday was lost in the
mists of antiquity. Boxer, feeling that his attentions were due to
the family in general, and must be impartially distributed, dashed
in and out with bewildering inconstancy: now describing a circle
of short barks round the horse, where he was being rubbed down
at the stable-door; now feigning to make savage rushes at his
mistress, and facetiously bringing himself to sudden stops; now
eliciting a shriek from Tilly Slowboy, in the low nursing-chair
near the fire, by the unexpected application of his moist nose to
her countenance; now exhibiting an obtrusive interest in the
Baby; now going round and round upon the hearth, and lying
down as if he had established himself for the night; now getting
up again, and taking that nothing of a fag-end of a tail of his, out
into the weather, as if he had just remembered an appointment,
and was off, at a round trot, to keep it.
" There! there's the tea-pot ready on the hob!" said Dot; as
briskly busy as a child at play at keeping house. "And there's
the cold knuckle of ham; and there's the butter; and there's the
crusty loaf, and all! Here's the clothes'-basket for the small
parcels, John, if you've got any there; where are you, John?




ï~~224

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Don't let the dear child fall under the grate, Tilly, whatever
you do!"
It may be noted of Miss Slowboy, in spite of her rejecting the
caution with some vivacity, that she 1,ad a rare and surprising
talent for getting this baby into difficulties: and had several times
imperiled its short life in a quiet way peculiarly her own. She
was of a spare and straight shape, this young lady, insomuch that
her garments appeared to be in constant danger of sliding off those
sharp pegs, her shoulders, on which they were loosely hung. Her
costume was remarkable for the partial development on all possible occasions, of some flannel vesture of a singular structure;
also for affording glimpses, in the region of the back, of a corset,
or pair of stays, in color a dead-green. Being always in a state
of gaping admiration at everything, and absorbed, besides, in the
perpetual contemplation of her mistress's perfections and the baby's,
Miss Slowboy, in her little errors of judgment, may be said to have
done equal honor to her head and to her heart; and though these
did less honor to the Baby's head, which they were the occasional
means of bringing into contact with deal doors, dressers, stairrails, bed.posts, and other foreign substances, still they were the
honest results of Tilly Slowboy's constant astonishment at finding
herself so kindly treated, and installed in such a comfortable home.
For the maternal and paternal Slowboy were alike unknown to
fame, and Tilly had been bred by public charity, a Foundling;
which word, though only differing from Fondling by one vowel's
length, is very different in meaning, and expresses quite another
thing.
To have seen little Mrs. Peerybingle come back with her busband; tugging at the clothes'-basket, and making the most strenuous exertions to do nothing at all (for he carried it); it would
have amused you, almost as much as it amused him. It may
have entertained the Cricket, too, for anything I know; but, cer.
tainly, it now began to chirp again, vehemently.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

225

" Heyday!" said John, in his slow way. "It's merrier than ever,
to-night, I think."
"And it's sure to bring us good fortune, John! It always has
done so. To have a Cricket on the Hearth is the luckiest thing
in all the world!"
John looked at her as if he had very nearly got the thought into
his head, that she was his Cricket in chief, and he quite agreed
with her. But it was probably one of his narrow escapes, for he
said nothing.
"The first time I heard its cheerful little note, John, was on
that night when you brought me home-when you brought me to
my new home here; its little mistress. Nearly a year ago. You
recollect, John?"
Oh, yes. John remembered. I should think so!
" Its chirp was such a welcome to me! It seemed so full of
promise and encouragement. It seemed to say, you would be
kind and gentle with me, and would not expect (I had a fear of
that, John, then) to find an old head on the shoulders of your
foolish little wife."
John thoughtfully patted one of the shoulders, and then the
head, as though he would have said, No, No: he had had no such
expectation; he had been quite content to take them as they
were. And really he had reason. They were very comely.
"It spoke the truth, John, when it seemed to say so; for you
have ever been, I am sure, the best, the most considerate, the
most affectionate of husbands to me. This has been a happy
home, John; and I love the Cricket for its sake!"
"Why so do I then," said the Carrier. "So do I, Dot."
"I love it for the many times I have heard it, and the many
thoughts its harmless music has given me. Sometimes, in the
twilight, when I have felt a little solitary and down-hearted,
John-before baby was here, to keep me company and make the
house gay; when I have thought how lonely you would be if I
14




ï~~226

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

should die: how lonely I should be, if I could know that you had
lost me, dear; its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp, upon the hearth, has
seemed to tell me of another little voice, so sweet, so very dear
to me, before whose coming sound, my trouble vanished like a
dream. And when I used to fear-I did fear once, John; I was
very young, you know-that ours might prove to be an ill-as.
sorted marriage: I being such a child, and you more like my
guardian than my husband; and that you might not, however
hard you tried, be able to learn to love me, as you hoped and
prayed you might; its Chirp, Chirp, Chirp, has cheered me up
again, and filled me with new trust and confidence. I was thinking of these things to-night, dear, when I sat expecting you; and
I love the Cricket for their sake!"
"And so do I," repeated John. "But Dot? I hope and pray
that I might learn to love you? How you talk! I had learnt
that, long before I brought you here, to be the Cricket's little
mistress, Dot!"
She laid her hand an instant on his arm, and looked:up at him
with an agitated face, as if she would have told him something.
Next moment, she was down upon her knees before the basket;
speaking in a sprightly voice, and busy with the parcels.
"There are not many of them to-night, John, but I saw some
goods behind the cart, just now; and though they give me more
trouble, perhaps, still they pay as well; so we have no reason to
grumble, have we? Besides, you have been delivering, I dare
say, as you came along?"
" Oh yes," John said. "A good many."
"Why, what's this round box? Heart alive, John, it's a wedding-cake!"
"Leave a woman alone, to find out that," said John admir.
ingly. " Now a man would never have thought of it! whereas,
it's my belief that if you was to pack a wedding-cake up in a tea
chest, or a turn-up bedstead, or a pickled salmon.keg, or any un.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

227

likely thing, a woman woula be sure to find it out directly. Yes;
I called for it at the pastry-cook's."
"And it weighs I don't know what-whole hundred weights!"
cried Dot, making a great demonstration of trying to lift it.
" Whose is it, John? Where is it going?"
"Read the writing on the other side," said John.
"Why, John! My goodness, John!"
"Ah! who'd have thought it!" John returned.
"You never mean to say," pursued Dot, sitting on the floor
and shaking her head at him, "that it's Gruff and Tackleton
the toy-maker!"
John nodded.
Mrs. Peerybingle nodded also, fifty times at least. Not in assent: in dumb and pitying amazement; screwing up her lips,
the while, with all their little force (they were never made for
screwing up; I am clear of that), and looking the good Carrier
through and through, in her abstraction. Miss Slowboy, in the
meantime, who had a mechanical power of reproducing scraps of
current conversation for the delectation of the Baby, with all the
sense struck out of them, and all the Nouns changed into the
Plural number, inquired aloud of that young creature, Was it
Gruffs and Tackletons the toy-makers then, and Would it call at
pastry-cooks for wedding-cakes, and Did its mothers know the
boxes when its fathers brought them home; and so on.
" And that is really to come about!" said Dot. "Why, she
and I were girls at school together, John."
He might have been thinking of her; or nearly thinking of
her, perhaps; as she was in that same school time. He looked
upon her with a thoughtful pleasure, but hlie made no answer.
"And he's as old! As unlike her!-Why, how many years
older tnan you, is Gruff and Tackleton, John?"
" How many more cups of tea shall I drink to-night at one sit.
tung, than Gruff and Tackleton ever took in four, I wonder!"




ï~~228

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

replied John, good-humoredly, as he drew a chair to the round
table, and began at the cold ham. "As to eating, I eat but little;
but that little I enjoy, Dot."
Even this-his usual sentiment at meal times-one of his innocent delusions (for his appetite was always obstinate, and flatly
contradicted him), awoke no smile in the face of his little wife,
who stood among the parcels, pushing the cake-box slowly from
her with her foot, and never once looked, though her eyes were
cast down too, upon the dainty shoe she generally was so mindful of. Absorbed in thought, she stood there, heedless alike of
the tea and John (although he called to her, and rapped the table
with his knife to startle her), until he arose and touched her on
the arm; when she looked at him for a moment, and hurried to
her place behind the tea-board, laughing at her negligence. But
not as she had laughed before. The manner, and the music,
were quite changed.
The cricket, too, had stopped. Somehow the room was not so
cheerful as it had been. Nothing like it.
"So, these are all the parcels, are they, John?" she said:
breaking a long silence, which the honest Carrier had devoted to
the practical illustration of one part of his favorite sentimentcertainly enjoying what he ate, if it couldn't be admitted that he
ate but little. "So these are all the parcels, are they, John?"
"That's all," said John. " Why-no-I-" laying down his
knife and fork, and taking a long breath. "I declare-I've clean
forgotten the old gentleman!"
"The old gentleman?"
" In the cart," said John. "l He was asleep, among the straw,
the last time I saw him. I've very nearly remembered him,
twice, since I came in; but he went out of my head again. Hal.
loa! Yahip there! Rouse up! That's my hearty!"
John said these latter words, outside the door, whither he had
hurried with the candle in his hand.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

229

Miss Slowboy, conscious of some mysterious reference to the
Old Gentleman, and connecting in her mystified imagination certain associations of a religious nature with the phrase, was so
disturbed, that hastily rising from the low chair by the fire to
neek protection near the skirts of her mistress, and coming into
contact as she crossed the doorway with an ancient Stranger, she.
instinctively made a charge or butt at him with the only offensive
instrument within her reach.-This instrument happened to be
the Baby: great commotion and alarm ensued, which the sagacity of Boxer rather tended to increase: for that good dog, more
thoughtful than his master, had, it seemed, been watching the old
gentleman in his sleep lest he should walk off with a few young
Poplar trees that were tied up behind the cart; and he still attended on him very closely: worrying his gaiters in fact, and
making dead sets at the buttons.
"You're such an undeniable good sleeper, Sir," said John,
when tranquillity was restored; in the meantime the old gentleman had stood, bare-headed and motionless, in the centre of the
room; "that I have half a mind to ask you where the other six
are: only that would be a joke, and I know I should spoil it.
Very near though," murmured the Carrier, with a chuckle;
" very near!"
The Stranger, who had long white hair, good features, singularly bold and well defined for an old man, and dark, bright,
penetrating eyes; looked round with a smile, and saluted the
Carrier's wife by gravely inclining his head.
His garb was very quaint and odd-a long, long way behind
the time. Its hue was brown, all over. In his hand he held a
great brown club or walking-stick; and striking this upon the
floor, it fell asunder and became a chair, on which he sat down,
quite composedly.
" There!" said the Carrier, turning to his wife. "That's the
way I found him, sitting by the roadside, upright as a milestone.
And almost as deaf."




ï~~23P

CHIISTMAS STORIES.

"Sitting in the open air, John!"
" In the open air," replied the Carrier, "just at dusk. ' Car.
riage Paid,' he said; and gave me eighteenpence. Then he got
in. And there he is."
" He's going, John, I think!"
"Not at all. He was only going to speak."
" If you please, I was to be left till called for," said the Stranger, mildly. " Don't mind me."
With that, he took a pair of spectacles from one of his large
pockets, and a book from another; and leisurely began to read.
Making no more of Boxer than if he had been a house lamb!
The Carrier and his wife exchanged a look of perplexity.
The Stranger raised his head; and glancing from the latter to
the former, said:
"Your daughter, my good friend?"
" Wife," returned John.
"Niece?" said the Stranger.
" Wife," roared John.
"Indeed?" observed the Stranger.-" Surely, very young?"
He quietly turned over, and resumed his reading. But, before
ne could have read two lines, he again interrupted himself to say:
"Baby yours?"
John gave him a gigantic nod; equivalent to an answer in the
affirmative, delivered through a speaking-trumpet.
" Girl!"
"Bo-o-oy!" roared John.
"Also very young, eh?"
Mrs. Peerybingle instantly struck in. "Two months and three
da-ays! Vaccinated just six weeks ago-o! Took very fine-ly!
Considered by the doctor, a remarkable beautiful chi-ild! Equal
to the general run of children at five months o-old! Takes notice
in a way quite won-der-ful! May seem impossible to you, but
feels his legs al-ready!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

231

Here the breathless little mother, who had been shrieking these
short sentences into the old man's ear, until her pretty face was
crimsoned, held up the Baby before him as a stubborn and
triumphant fact; while Tilly Slowboy, with a melodious cry of
Ketcher, Ketcher--which sounded like some unknown words,
adopted to a popular Sneeze-performed some cow-like gambols
round that all unconscious Innocent.
" Hark! He's called for, sure enough," said John. " There's
somebody at the door. Open it, Tilly."
Before she could reach it, however, it was opened from without: being a primitive sort of door, with a latch, that any one could
lift if he choose-and a good many people did choose, I can tell
you; for all kinds of neighbors liked to have a cheerful word or
two with the Carrier, though he was no great talker for the
matter of that.  Being opened, it gave admission to a little
meagre, thoughtful, dingy-faced man, who seemed to have made
himself a great-coat from the sackcloth covering of some old box:
for when he turned to shut the door, and keep the weather out, he
disclosed upon the back of that garment, the inscription G & T
in large black capitals.  Also the word GLASS in bold
characters.
" Good evening, John!" said the little man. " Good evening,
Mum.    Good evening, Tilly. Good evening, Unbeknown
How's Baby, Mum? Boxer's pretty well, I hope?"
" All thriving, Caleb," replied Dot. " I am sure you need
only look at the dear child, for one, to know that."
" And I'm sure I need only look at you for another," said
Caleb.
He didn't look at her though; for he had a wandering and
thoughtful eye which seemed to be always projecting itself into
some other time and place, no matter what he said; a description
which will equally apply to his voice.




ï~~232

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Or at John for another," said Caleb. "Or at Tilly, as fa,
as that goes. Or certainly at Boxer."
"Busy just now, Caleb?" asked the Carrier.
"Why, pretty well, John," he returned, with the distraught air
of a man who was casting about for the Philosopher's stone at
least. " Pretty much so. There's rather a run on Noah's Arks
at present. I could have wished to improve the Family, but I
don't see how it's to be done at the price. It would be a satisfaction to one's mind, to make it clearer which was Shems and
Hams, and which was Wives. Flies ain't on that scale neither,
as compared with elephants you know. Ah, well! Have you
got anything in the parcel line for me, John?"
The Carrier put his hand into a pocket of the coat he had taken off; and brought out, carefully preserved in moss and paper,
a tiny flower-pot.
" There it is!" he said, adjusting it with great care. "Not
so much as a leaf damaged. Full of Buds!"
Caleb's dull eye brightened, as he took it, and thanked him.
"Dear, Caleb," said the Carrier. " Very dear at this season."
"Never mind that. It would be cheap to me, whatever it
costs," returned the little man. " Anything else, John?"
"A small box," replied the Carrier. " Here you are!"
"For Caleb Plummer," said the little man, spelling out the
direction. "' With Cash.' With Cash, John? I don't think
it's for me."
"With Care," returned the Carrier, looking over his shoulder.
"Where do you make out cash?"
"Oh! To be sure!" said Caleb. "It's all right. ' With care!'
Yes, yes; that's mine. It might have been with cash, indeed, if
my dear boy in the Golden South Americas had lived, John. You
loved him like a son; didn't you? You needn't say you did. 1
know, of course. ' Caleb Plummer. With care.' Yes, yes, it's




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

233

all right. It's a box of dolls' eyes for my daughter's work. I
wish it was her own sight in a box, John."
"I wish it was, or could be!" cried the Carrier.
"Thankee," said the little man. " You speak very hearty.
rI'o think that she should never see the dolls; and they a staring
at her, so bold, all day long! That's where it cuts. What's the
damage, John?"
"I'll damage you," said John, " if you inquire. Dot! Very
near?"
" Well! it's like you to say so," observed the little man. "It's
your kind way. Let me see. I think that's all."
" I think not," said the Carrier. " Try again."
" Something for our Governor, eh?" said Caleb, after pondering a little while. "To be sure. That's what I came for;
but my head is so running on them Arks and things! He hasn't
been here, has he? "
"Not he," returned the Carrier. "He's too busy, courting."
"He's coming round though," said Caleb; "for he told me
to keep on the near side of the road going home, and it was tea
to one he'd take me up. I had better go, by the bye.-You.ouldn't have the goodness to let me pinch Boxer's tail, Mum, for
half a moment, could you? "
"Why, Caleb! what a question!"
" Oh, never mind, Mum," said the little man. "He mightn't
like it perhaps. There is a small order just come in, for barking
dogs; and I should wish to go as close to Natur' as I could for
sixpence. That's all. Never mind, Mum."
It happened opportunely, that Boxer, without receiving the
proposed stimulus, began to bark with great zeal. But as this
implied the approach of some new visitor, Caleb, postponing his
study from the life to a more convenient season, shouldered tho
round box, and took a hurried leave. He might have spared
himself the trouble, for he met the visitor upon the threshold.




ï~~'234

CHRISTMAS STORIES

"Oh! you are here, are you? Wait a bit. I'll take you
home. John Peerybingle, my service to you. More of my ser.
vice to your pretty wife. Handsomer every day! Better too, if
possible! And younger," mused the speaker, in a low voice;
"that's the Devil of it."
"I should be astonished at your paying compliments, Mr.
Tackleton," said Dot, not with the best grace in the world;
"but for your condition."
"You know all about it, then?"
" I have got myself to believe it somehow," said Dot.
"After a hard struggle, I suppose? "
"Very."
Tackleton, the toy merchant, pretty generally known as Gruff
and Tackleton-for that was the firm, though Gruff had been
bought out long ago; only leaving his name, and as some said
his nature, according to its Dictionary meaning, in the business
-Tackleton, the toy merchant, was a man whose vocation had
been quite misunderstood by his Parents and Guardians. If they
had made him a Money-Lender, or a sharp Attorney, or a
Sheriff's Officer, or a Broker, he might have sown his discontented oats in his youth, and after having had the full run of
himself in ill-natured transactions, might have turned out amiable
at last, for the sake of a little freshness and novelty. But,
cramped and chafing in the peaceable pursuit of toymaking, he
was a domestic ogre, who had been living on children all his
life, and was their implacable enemy. He despised all toys;
wouldn't have bought one for the world; delighted, in his malice,
to insinuate grim expressions into the faces of brown-paper
farmers who drove pigs to market, bellmen who advertised lost
lawyers' consciences, movable old ladies who darned stockings
or carved pies; and other like samples of his stock in trade. In
appalling masks: hideous, hairy, red-eyed Jacks in Boxes;
Vampire Kites; demoniacal Tumblers who would not lie down,




ï~~CRICKET ON TIHE HEARTH.

235

and were perpetually flying forward, to stare infants out of coun.
tenance; his soul perfectly revelled. They were his only relief,
and safety valve. He was great in such inventions. Anything
suggestive of a Pony-nightmare was delicious to him. He had
even lost money (and he took to that toy very kindly) by getting
up Goblin slides for magic lanterns, whereon the Powers of
Darkness were depicted as a sort of supernatural shell-fish, with
human faces. In intensifying the portraiture of Giants, he had
sunk quite a little capital; and, though no painter himself, he
could indicate, for the instruction of his artists, with a piece of
chalk, a certain furtive leer for the countenances of these monsters, that was safe to destroy the peace of mind of any young
gentleman between the ages of six and eleven, for the whole
Christmas or Midsummer Vacation.
What he was in toys, he was (as most men are) in all other
things. You may easily suppose, therefore, that within the great
green cape, which reached down to the calves of his legs, there
was buttoned up to the chin an uncommonly pleasant fellow;
and that he was about as choice a spirit and as agreeable a companion, as ever stood in a pair of bull-headed looking boots with
mahogany colored tops.
Still, Tackleton, the Toy-merchant, was going to be married.
In spite of all this, he was going to be married. And to a young
wife too; a beautiful young wife.
He didn't look much like a bridegroom, as he stood in the Carrier's kitchen, with a twist in his dry face, and a screw in his
body, and his hat jerked over the bridge of his nose, and his
hands stuck down into the bottoms of his pockets; and his whole
sarcastic ill-conditioned self peering out of one little corner of
one little eye, like the concentrated essence of any number of ravens. But a Bridegroom he designed to be.
"In three days' time. Next Thursday. The last day of the
first month of the year. That's my wedding day," said Tackleton.




ï~~236

CHRISTMAS STORIES

Did I mention that he had always one eye wide open, and one
eye nearly shut; and that the one eye nearly shut, was always
the expressive eye? I don't think I did.
"That's my wedding-day," said Tackleton, rattling his money.
" Why, it's our wedding-day too," exclaimed the Carrier.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Tackleton. "Odd! You are just such
another couple. Just!"
The indignation of Dot at this presumptuous assertion is not to
be described. What next? His imagination would compass the
possibility of just such another Baby, perhaps. The man was mad.
" I say! a word with you," murmured Tackleton, nudging the
Carrier with his elbow, and taking him a little apart. " You '11
come to the wedding? We 're in the same boat, you know."
" How in the same boat?" inquired the Carrier.
"A little disparity, you know," said Tackleton, with another
nudge. "Come and spend an evening with us, beforehand."
"Why?" demanded John, astonished at this pressing hospitality.
"Why?" returned the other, " that 's a new way of receiving
an invitation. Why, for pleasure; sociability, you know, and
all that!"
" I thought you were never sociable," said John, in his plain
way.
" Tehah! It is no use to be anything but free with you, I see,"
said Tackleton. " Why then, the truth is you have a-what tea.
drinking people call a sort of comfortable appearance together,
you and your wife. We know better, you know, but-"
"No, we don't know better," interposed John. "What are you
talking about?"
"Well!   We don't know better then," said Tackleton.
"We 'll agree that we don't. As you like: what does it matter?
I was going to say, as you have that sort of appearance, your
company will produce a favorable effect on Mrs. Tackleton that




ï~~CRICKET ON  THIE  HEARTH.

287

will be. And though I don't think your good lady's very friendly
to me, in this matter, still she can't help herself from falling into
my views, for there's a compactness and cosiness of appearance
about her that always tells, even in an indifferent case. You 'll
say you '11 come."
" We have arranged to keep our Wedding-day (as far as that
goes) at home," said John. " We have made the promise to ourselves these six months. We think, you see, that home-"
" Bah! what's home?" cried Tackleton. "Four walls and
a ceiling! (why don't you kill that Cricket, I would. I always
do. I hate their noise.) There are four walls and a ceiling at
my house. Come to me."
"You kill your Crickets, eh!" said John.
"Scrunch 'em, sir," returned the other, setting his heel heavily
on the floor. " You 'll say you'll come? It 's as much your
interest as mine, you know, that the women should persuade each
other that they're quiet and contented, and couldn't be better off.
I know their way. Whatever one woman says, another woman
is determined to clinch, always. There's that spirit of emulation
among 'em, sir, that if your wife says to my wife, 'I 'm the happiest woman in the world, and mine's the best husband in the
world, and I dote on him,' my wife will say the same to your's,
or more, and half believe it."
"Do you mean to say she don't, then?" asked the Carrier.
"Don't!" cried Tackleton, with a short sharp laugh. " Don't
what?"
The Carrier had some faint idea of adding, " dote upon you."
But happening to meet the half-closed eye, as it twinkled upon
him over the turned-up collar of the cape, which was within an
ace of poking it out, he felt it such an unlikely part and parcel of
anything to be doted on, that he substituted, " that she don't be.
lieve it?"
" Ah, you dog, you re joking," said Tackleton.




ï~~2.18

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

But the Carrier, though slow to understand the full drift of his
meaning, eyed him in such a serious manner, that he was obliged
to be a little more explanatory.
" I have the humor," said Tackleton, holding up the fingers of
his left hand, and tapping the fore-finger, to imply ' there I am,
Tackleton to wit;' "I have the humor, sir, to marry a young
wife and a pretty wife;" here he rapped his little finger, to
express the Bride; not sparingly, but sharply; with a sense of
power. " I 'm able to gratify that humor, and I do. It's my
whim. But-now look there."
He pointed to where Dot was sitting, thoughtfully, before the
fire, leaning her dimpled chin upon her hand, and watching the
bright blaze. The Carrier looked at her, and then at him, and
then at her and then at him again.
" She honors and obeys, no doubt, you know," said Tackleton;
"and that, as I am not a man of sentiment, is quite enough for
me. But do you think there's anything more in it?"
" I think," observed the Carrier, " that I should chuck any man
out of window, who said there wasn't."
" Exactly so," returned the other with an unusual alacrity of
assent. " To be sure! Doubtless you would. Of course I 'm
certain of it. Good night. Pleasant dreams!"
The good Carrier was puzzled, and made uncomfortable and
uncertain, in spite of himself. He couldn't help showing it, in
his manner.
" Good night, my dear friend!" said Tackleton, compassionately. " I'm off. We're exactly alike, in reality, I see.-You
won't give us to-morrow evening? Well! Next day you go
out visiting, I know. I'll meet you there, and bring my wife that
is to be. It '11 do her good. You 're agreeable? Thankee.
What's that?"
It was a loud cry from the Carrier's wife; a loud, sharp, sud.
den cry, that made the room ring, like a glass vessel. She had




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

239

risen from her seat, and stood like one transfixed by terror and
surprise. The Stranger had advanced towards the fire, to warm
himself, and stood within a short stride of her chair. But quite
still.
" Dot," cried the Carrier. " Mary! Darling! what's the
matter? "
They were all about her in a moment. Caleb, who had been
dozing on the cake-box, in the first imperfect recovery of his sus.
pended presence of mind seized Miss Slowboy by the hair of her
head, but immediately apologised.
" Mary!" exclaimed the Carrier, supporting her in his arms.
"Are you ill! what is it? Tell me, dear?"
She only answered by beating her hands together, and falling
into a wild fit of laughter. Then, sinking from his grasp upon
the ground, she covered her face with her apron, and wept bitterly. And then, she laughed again; and then, she cried again,
and then, she said how cold it was, and suffered him to lead her
to the fire, where she sat down as before. The old man standing, as before, quite still.
" I'm better, John," she said. " I'm quite well now-I-"
John! But John was on the other side of her. Why turn her
face towards the strange old gentleman, as if addressing him!
Was her brain wandering?
" Only a fancy, John dear-a kind of shock-a something
coming suddenly before my eyes-I don't know what it was.
It's quite gone! quite gone."
" I'm glad it's gone," muttered Tackleton, turning the expres.
sive eye all round the room. " I wonder where it's gone, and
what it was. Humph! Caleb, come here! Who's that with the
grey hair?"
" I don't know, sir," returned Caleb, in a whisper. " Never
see him before, in all my life. A beautiful figure for a nut




ï~~240

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

cracker; quite a new model. With a screw-jaw opening down
into his waistcoat, he'd be lovely."
"Not ugly enough," said Tackleton.
"Or for a firebox, either," observed Caleb, in deep contemplatoin, " what a model! Unscrew his head to put the matches in;
turn him heels up'ards for the light; and what a firebox for a
gentleman's mantel-shelf, just as he stands!"
"Not half ugly enough," said Tackleton. "Nothing in him
at all. Come! Bring that box! All right now, I hope? "
"Oh quite gone! Quite gone!" said the little woman, waving
aim hurriedly away. " Good night!"
" Good night," said Tackleton. " Good night, John Peery
bingle! T'ake care how you carry that box, Caleb. Let it fall,
and I'll murder you! Dark as pitch, and weather worse than
ever, eh? Good night!"
So, with another sharp look round the room, he went out at the
door; followed by Caleb with the wedding-cake on his head.
The Carrier had been so much astounded by his little wife,
and so busily engaged in soothing and tending her, that he had
scarcely been conscious of the Stranger's presence, until now,
when he again stood there, their only guest.
" He don't belong to them, you see," said John. "I must give
him a hint to go."
"I beg your pardon, friend," said the old gentleman, advancing
to him; "the more so, as I fear your wife has not been well;
but the Attendant whom my infirmity," he touched his ears and
shook his head, " renders almost indispensable, not having arrived, I fear there must be some mistake. The bad night wnich
made the shelter of your cart (may I never have a worse!) so
acceptable, is still as bad as ever. Would you, in your kindness,
suffer me to rent a bed here?"
"Yes, yes," said Dot. "Yes! Certainly!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

24.t

"Oh!" said the Carrier, surprised by the rapidity of this con.
ent. " Well! I don't object; but still I'm not quite sure that-"
" Hush!" she interrupted. " Dear John!"
"Why, he's stone deaf," urged John.
" I know he is, but,-Yes, Sir, certainly. Yes! certainly!
I'll make him up a bed, directly, John."
As she hurried off to do it, the flutter of her spirits, and the
agitation of her manner, were so strange, that the Carrier stood
looking after her, quite confounded.
"Did its mothers make it up a Beds then!" cried Miss Slowboy to
the Baby; "and did its hair grow brown and curly, when its
caps was lifted off, and frighten it, a precious Pets, a sitting by
the fires!"
With that unaccountable attraction of the mind to trifles, which
is often incidental to a state of doubt and confusion, the Carrier,
as he walked slowly to and fro, found himself mentally repeating
even these absurd words, many times.
So many times that he got them by heart, and was still conning
them over and over, like a lesson, when Tilly, after administering
as much friction to the little bald head with her hand as she
thought wholesome (according to the practice of nurses), had
once more tied the Baby's cap on.
"And frighten it, a Precious Pets, a sitting by the fire. What
frightened Dot, I wonder?" mused the carrier, pacing to and fro.
He scouted from his heart, the insinuations of the Toy merchant,
and yet they filled him with a vague, indefinite uneasiness; for
'.ackleton was quick and sly; and he had that painful sense,
himself, of being a man of slow perception, that a broken hint
was always worrying to him. He certainly had no intention in
his mind of linking anything that Tackleton had said, with the unusual conduct of his wife; but the two subjects of reflection
came into his mind together, and he could not keep them asunder.
The bed was soon made ready; and the visitor, declining all
15




ï~~42

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

refreshment but a cup of tea, retirea. Then Dot: quite well
again, she said: quite well again: arranged the great chair in
the chimney corner for her husband, filled his pipe and gave it
him; and took her usual little stool beside him on the hearth.
She always would sit on that little stool; I think she must have
had a kind of notion that it was a coaxing, wheedling, little stool.
She was, out and out, the very best filler of a pipe, I should
say, in the four quarters of the globe. To see her put her
chubby little finger in the bowl, and then blow down the pipe to
clear the tube; and when she had done so, affect to think that
there really was something in the tube, and blow a dozen times,
and hold it to her eye like a telescope, with a most provoking
twist in her capital little face, as she looked down it: was quite
a brilliant thing. As to the tobacco, she was a perfect mistress
of the subject; and her lighting of the pipe, with a wisp of paper,
when the Carrier had it in his mouth-going so very near his
nose, and yet not scorching it-was Art: high Art, sir.
And the Cricket and the Kettle, tuning up again, acknowledged
it! The bright fire, blazing up again, acknowledged it! The
little Mower on the clock, in his unheeded work, acknowledged
it! The Carrier, in his smoothing forehead and expanding face,
acknowledged it, the readiest of all.
And as he soberly and thoughtfully puffed at his old pipe; and
as the Dutch clock ticked; and as the red fire gleamed; and as
the Cricket chirped; that Genius of his Hearth and Home (for
such the Cricket was) came out, in fairy shape, into the room, and
summoned many forms of Home about him. Dots of all ages, and
all sizes, filled the chamber. Dots who were merry children,
running on before him, gathering flowers, in the fields; coy Dots,
half shrinking from, half yielding to, the pleading of his own
rough image; newly-married Dots, alighting at the door, and
taking wondering possession of the household keys; motherly
little Dots, attended by fictitious Slowboys, bearing babies to be




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

213

christened; matronly Dots, still young and blooming, watching
Dots of daughters, as they danced at rustic balls; fat Dots, encircled and beset by troops of rosy grandchildren; withered Dots,
who leaned on sticks, and tottered as they crept along. Old Carriers too, appeared, with blind old Boxers lying at their feet; and
newer carts with younger drivers (" Peerybingle Brothers" on
the tilt); and sick old Carriers, tended by the gentlest hands; and
graves of dead and gone old Carriers, green in the churchyard.
And as the Cricket showed him all these things-he saw them
plainly; though his eyes were fixed upon the fire-the Carrier's
heart grew light and happy, and he thanked his Household Gods
with all his might, and cared no more for Gruff and Tackleton
than you do.
But what was that young figure of a man, which the same
Fairy Cricket set so near her stool, and which remained there, singly
and alone? Why did it linger still, so near her, with its arm
upon the chimney-piece, ever repeating, "Married! and not tome!"
Oh Dot! Oh failing Dot! There is no place for it in all
your husband's visions; why has its shadow fallen on his hearth!




ï~~CHIRP THE SECOND.

CARLT PLUMMER and his Blind Daughter lived all alone by themselves, as the Story-Books say-and my blessing, with yours to
back it I hope, on the Story-Books, for saying anything in this
workaday world!-Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived
all alone by themselves, in a little cracked nutshell of a wooden
house, which was, in truth, no better than a pimple on the prominent
red-brick nose of Gruff and Tackleton. The premises of Gruff
and Tackleton were the great feature of the street; but you
might have knocked down Caleb Plummer's dwelling with a
hammer or two, and carried off the pieces in a cart.
If any one had done the dwelling-house of Caleb Plummer the
honor to miss it after such an inroad, it would have been, no
doubt, to commend its demolition as a vast improvement. It
stuck to the premises of Gruff and Tackleton, like a barnacle to
a ship's keel, or a snail to a door, or a little bunch of toad-stools
to the stem of a tree. But it was the germ from which the fullgrown trunk of Gruff and Tackleton had sprung; and under its
crazy roof, the Gruff before last had, in a small way, made toys
for a generation of old boys and girls, who had played with them,
and found them out, and broken them, and gone to sleep.
I have said that Caleb and his poor Blind Daughter lived here;
but I should have said Caleb lived here, and his poor Blind
Daughter somewhere else; in an enchanted home of Caleb's furnishing, where scarcity and shabbiness were not, and trouble
never entered. Caleb was no Sorcerer, but in the only magic
art that still remains to us: the magic of devoted, deathless luve:
244




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

245

Nature had been the mistress of his study; and from her teach.
ing all the wonder came.
The Blind Girl never knew that ceilings were discolored;
walls blotched, and bare of plaster here and there; high crevices
unstopped, and widening every day: beams mouldering and tending downward. The Blind Girl never knew that the iron was
rusting, wood rotting, paper peeling off; the very size, and shape,
and true proportion of the dwelling, withering away. The Blind
Girl never knew that ugly shapes of delf and earthenware were
on the board: that sorrow and faint-heartedness were in the
house; that Caleb's scanty hairs were turning greyer and more
grey before her sightless face. The Blind Girl never knew they
had a master, cold, exacting and uniterested: never knew that
Tackleton was Tackleton in short; but lived in the belief of an
eccentric humorist who loved to have his jest with them; and
while he was the Guardian Angel of their lives, disdained to
hear one word of thankfulness.
And all was Caleb's doing: all the doing of her simple father!
But he too had a Cricket on his Hearth: and listening sadly to its
music when the motherless Blind Child was very young, that
Spirit had inspired him with the thought that even her great deprivation might be almost changed into a blessing, and the girl
made happy by these little means. For all the Cricket Tribe are
potent Spirits, even though the people who hold converse with
them do not know it (which is frequently the case); and there
are not in the Unseen World, Voices more gentle and more true;
that may be so implicitly relied on, or that are so certain to give
none but tenderest counsel; as the Voices iv which the Spirits
of the Fireside and the Hearth address tnemselves to human kind.
Caleb and his daughter were at work together in their usual
working-room, which served them for their ordinary living room
as well; and a strange place it was. There were houses in it,
finished and unfinished, for Dolls of all stations in life. Suburban




ï~~246

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

tenements for Dolls of moderate means; kitchens and single
apartments for Dolls of the lower classes; capital town residences
for Dolls of high estate. Some of these establishments were
already furnished according to estimate, with a view to the convenience of Dolls of limited income; others could be fitted on
the most expensive scale, at a moment's notice, from whole
shelves of chairs and tables, sofas, bedsteads, and upholstery.
The nobility and gentry and public in general, for whose accommodation these tenements were designed, lay, here and there, in
baskets, staring straight up at the ceiling: but in denoting their
degrees in society, and confining them to their respective stations
(which experience shows to be lamentably difficult in real life),
the makers of these Dolls had far improved on Nature, who is
often froward and perverse; for they, not resting on such arbi.
trary marks as satin, cotton-print, and bits of rag, had superadded
striking personal differences which allowed of no mistake. Thus,
the Doll-lady of Distinction had wax limbs of perfect symmetry;
but only she and her compeers: the next grade in the social
scale being made of leather: and the next of coarse linen stuff.
As to the common-people, they had just so many matches out of
tinder-boxes for their arms and legs, and there they were-esta
blished in their sphere at once, beyond the possibility of getting
out of it.
There were various other samples of his handicraft besides
Dolls, in Caleb Plummer's room. There were Noah's Arks, in
which the birds and beasts were an uncommonly tight fit, I assure
you; though they could be crammed in, any how, at the roof,
and rattled and shaken into the smallest compass. By a bold
poetical license, most of these Noah's Arks had knockers on the
doors; inconsistent appendages perhaps, as suggestive of morning
callers and a Postman, yet a pleasant finish to the outside of the
building. There were scores of melancholy little carts which.
when the wheels went round, performed most doleful music.




ï~~


ï~~__            _  _____ _
(/( ji7

b'~ ~rmj ~
if ~

_Z7z___
CALEB PLUMMER AND HIS BLIND DAUGHTER.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

247

Many small fiddles, drums, and other instruments of torture; no
end of cannon, shields, swords, spears, and guns. There were
little tumblers in red breeches, incessantly swarming up high
obstacles of red-tape, and coming down, head first, upon the other
side; and there were innumerable old gentlemen of respectable,
not to say venerable appearance, insanely flying over horizontal
pegs, inserted, for the purpose, in their own street doors. There
were beasts of all sorts, horses, in particular, of every breed;
from the spotted barrel on four pegs, with a small tippet for a
mane, to the thoroughbred rocker on his highest mettle.
As it would have been hard to count the dozens upon dozens
of grotesque figures that were ever ready to commit all sorts of
absurdities, on the turning of a handle; so it would have been
no easy task to mention any human folly, vice, or weakness, that
had not its type, immediate or remote, in Caleb Plummer's room.
And not in an exaggerated form; for very little handles will move
men and women to as strange performances, as any Toy was
ever made to undertake.
In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and his daughter sat at
work. The blind girl busy as a doll's dressmaker; and Caleb
painting and glazing the four-pair front of a desirable family
mansion.
The care imprinted in the lines of Caleb's face, and his ab.
sorbed and dreamy manner,-which would have sat well on some
alchemist or abstruse student, were at first sight an odd contrast
to his occupation, and the trivialities about him. But trivial
things, invented and pursued for bread, become very serious
matters of fact; and, apart from this consideration, I am not at
all prepared to say, myself, that if Caleb had been a lord chamberlain, or a member of parliament, or a lawyer, or even a great
speculator, he would have dealt in toys one whit less whimsical;
while I have a very great doubt whether they would have been
as harmless.




ï~~248

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"So you were out in the rain last night, father, in your beau
tiful, new great-coat," said Caleb's daughter.
"In my beautiful new great-coat," answered Caleb, glancing
towards a clothes-line in the room, on which the sackcloth gar
ment previously described was carefully hung up to dry.
"How glad I am you bought it, father!"
" And of such a tailor, too," said Caleb. "Quite a fashionable
tailor. It's too good for me."
The Blind Girl rested from her work, and laughed with delight.
"Too good, father? What can be too good for you?"
" I'm half ashamed to wear it, though," said Caleb, watching
the effect of what he said, upon her brightening face; " upon my
word. When I hear the boys and people say behind me,' Hal.
loa! Here's a swell!' I don't know which way to look. And
when the beggar wouldn't go away last night; and, when I said
I was a very common man, said, ' No, your honor! Bless your
honor don't say that!' I was quite ashamed. I really felt as if
I hadn't a right to wear it."
Happy Blind Girl! How merry she was in her exultation!
" I see you, father," she said, clasping her hands, " as plainly
as if I had the eyes I never want when you are with me. A
blue coat!""Bright blue," said Caleb.
"Yes, yes! Bright blue!" exclaimed the girl, turning up her
radiant face; " the color I can just remember in the blessed sky!
You told me it was blue before! A bright blue coat "" Made loose to the figure," suggested Caleb.
" Yes! loose to the figure!" cried the Blind Girl, laughing
heartily; " and in it you, dear father, with your merry eye, your
smiling face, your free step, and your dark hair: looking so
young and handsome!"
"Halloa! Halloa!" said Caleb. "I shall be vain, presently."
" I think you are already," cried the Blind Girl, pointing at




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

249

him, in her glee. "I know you, father! Ha, ha, ha! I've
found you out, you see!"
How different the picture in her mind from Caleb, as he sat
observing her! She had spoken of his free step. She was right
in thiat. For years and years he never once had crossed that
threshold at his own slow pace, but with a footfall counterfeited
for her ear; and never had he, when his heart was heaviest, forgotten the light tread that was to render hers so cheerful and
courageous!
Heaven knows! But I think Caleb's vague bewilderment of
manner may have half originated in his having confused himself
about himself and everything around him, for the love of his blind
daughter. How could the little man be otherwise than bewilder
ed, after laboring for so many years to destroy his own identity,
and that of all the objects that had any bearing on it!
" There we are," said Caleb, falling back a pace or two to
form the better judgment of his work; " as near the real thing
as sixpen'orth of halfpence is to sixpence. What a pity that the
whole front of the house opens at once! If there was only a
staircase in it now, and regular doors to the rooms to go in at!
but that's the worst of my calling. I'm always deluding myself,
and swindling myself."
'' You are speaking quite softly. You are not tired, father?"
"Tired," echoed Caleb, with a great burst of animation, " what
should tire me, Bertha?  I was never tired.  What does it
mean?"
To give the greater force to his words, he checked himself in
an involuntary imitation of two half length stretching and yawn.
ing figures on the mantel-shelf, who were represented as in one
eternal state of weariness from the waist upwards; and hummed
a fragment of a song. It was a bacchanalian song, something
about a sparkling bowl; and he sang it with an assumption of a




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CHRISTMAS STORIES

Devil-may-care voice, that made his face a thousand times more
meagre and more thoughtful than ever.
" What! you're singing, are you?" said Tackleton, putting
his head in at the door. " Go it! I can't sing."
Nobody would have suspected him of it. He hadn't what is
generally termed a singing face, by any means.
" I can't afford to sing," said Tackleton. " I'm glad you can.
I hope you can afford to work too. Hardly time for both, I should
think?"
"If you could only see him, Bertha, how he's winking at me!"
whispered Caleb.-" Such a man to joke! you'd think, if you
didn't know him, he was in earnest, wouldn't you, now?"
The Blind Girl smiled and nodded.
" The bird that can sing and won't sing must be made to sing,
they say," grumbled Tackleton. "What about the owl that can't
sing, and oughtn't to sing, and will sing; is there anything that
he should be made to do?"
" The extent to which he's winking at this moment!" whispered
Caleb to his daughter. " Oh, my gracious!"
" Always merry and light-hearted with us!" cried the smiling
Bertha.
"Oh! you're there, are you?" answered Tackleton. "Poor
idiot!"
He really did believe she was an idiot; and he founded the
belief, I can't say whether consciously or not, upon her being
fond of him.
" Well! and being there,-how are you?" said Tackleton;
in his grudging way.
" Oh! well; quite well. And as happy as even you can wish
me to be. As happy as you would make the whole world, if you
could!"
"Poor idiot!" muttered Tackleton. "No gleam of reason
Not a gleam!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

ThA blind girl took his hand and kissed it; held it for a moment in her own two hands; and laid her cheek against it tenderly, before releasing it. These was such unspeakable affection and such fervent gratitude in the act, that Tackleton him.
self was moved to say, in a milder growl than usual:
" What's the matter now?"
" I stood it close beside my pillow when I went to sleep last
night, and remembered it in my dreams. And when the day
broke, and the glorious red sun-the red sun, father?"
" Red in the mornings and the evenings, Bertha," said poor
Caleb, with a woful glance at his employer.
"When it arose, and the bright light 1 almost fear to strike
myself against in walking, came into the room, I turned the little
tree towards it, and blessed Heaven for making things so precious,
and blessed you for sending them to cheer me!"
"Bedlam broke loose!" said Tackleton under his breath. "We
shall arrive at the strait-waistcoat and mufflers soon. We're
getting on!"
Caleb, with his hands hooked loosely in each other, stared
vacantly before him while his daughter spoke, as if he really
were uncertain (I believe he was) whether Tackleton had done
anything to deserve her thanks, or not. If he could have been a
perfectly free agent, at that moment, required, on pain of death,
to kick the Toy merchant, or fall at his feet, according to his
merits, I believe it would have been an even chance which course
he would have taken. Yet Caleb knew that with his own hands
he had brought the little rose tree home for her, so carefully;
and that with his own lips he had forged the innocent deception
which should help to keep her from suspecting how much, how
very much, he every day denied himself, that she might be the
happier.
"Bertha!" said Tackleton, assuming for the nonce, a little
cordiality. "Come here."




ï~~252

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Oh! I can come straight to you. You needn't guidE me.
she rejoined.
"Shall I tell you a secret, Bertha?"
"If you will!" she answered eagerly.
How bright the darkened face! How adorned with light, the
listening head!
" This is the day on which little what's-her-name; the spoilt
child; Peerybingle's wife; pays her regular visit to you-makes
her fantastic Pic-Nic here; ain't it?" said Tackleton, with a strong
expression of distaste for the whole concern.
"Yes," replied Bertha. "This is the day."
"I thought so!" said Tackleton. "I should like to join the
party."
"Do you hear that, father!" cried the Blind Girl in an
ecstasy.
" Yes, yes, I hear it," murmured Caleb, with the fixed look of
a sleep-walker; "but I do not believe it. It's one of my lies
I've no doubt."
"You see I-I want to bring the Peerybingles a little more into
company with May Fielding," said Tackleton. "I am going to
be married to May."
"Married!" cried the Blind Girl, starting from him.
" She's such a confounded idiot," muttered Tackleton, "that I
was afraid she'd never comprehend me. Ah, Bertha! Married!Church, parson, clerk, beadle, glass-coach, bells, breakfast, bridecake, favors, marrow-bones, cleavers; and all the rest of the
tomfoolery.  A  wedding you know; a wedding.    Don't you
know what a wedding is?"
"I know," replied the Blind Girl, in a gentle tone. "I under.
stand!"
" Do you?" muttered Tackleton; "it 's more than I expected.
Well! on that account I want you to join the party, and to bring
May and her mother. I '11 send in a little something or other,




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEART.

253

before the afternoon. A cold leg of mutton, or some comfortable
trifle of that sort. You 'll expect me?"
" Yes," she answered.
She had drooped her head, and turned away: and so stood,
with her hands crossed, musing.
" I don't think you will," muttered Tackleton, looking at her;
" for you seem to have forgotten all about it, already. Caleb."
"I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose," thought Caleb.
" Sir!"
"Take care she don't forget what I've been saying to her."
"She never forgets," returned Caleb. " It's one of the few
things she ain't clever in."
"Every man thinks his own geese, swans," observed the Toy
merchant, with a shrug. "Poor devil!"
Having delivered himself of which remark with infinite contempt, old Gruff and Tackleton withdrew.
Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in meditation. The
gaiety had vanished from her downcast face, and it was very
sad. Three or four times she shook her head, as if bewailing
some remembrance or some loss; but her sorrowful reflections
found no vent in words.
It was not until Caleb had been occupied some time, in yoking
a team of horses to a wagon by the summary process of nailing
the harness to the vital parts of their bodies, that she drew near
to his working-stool, and sitting down beside him, said:
"Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes: my
patient, willing eyes."
"Here they are," said Caleb. "Always ready. They are
more your's than mine, Bertha, any hour in the four and twenty.
What shall your eyes do for you, dear?"
"Look -und the room, father."
"All right," said Caleb. "No sooner said than done, Bertha."
"Tell me about it."




ï~~254

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"It's much the same as usual," said Caleb. " Homely, bu
very snug. The gay colors on the walls; the bright flowers on
the plates and dishes; the shining wood, where there are beams
or panels; the general cheerfulness and neatness of the building;
make it very pretty."
Cheerful and neat it was, wherever Bertha's hands could busy
themselves. But nowhere else were cheerfulness and neatness
possible, in the old crazy shed which Caleb's fancy so transformed.
"You have your working dress on, and are not so gallant as
when you wear the handsome coat?" said Bertha, touching him.
" Not quite so gallant," answered Caleb.  "Pretty brisk
though."
" Father," said the Blind Girl, drawing close to his side, and
stealing one arm round his neck, "tell me something about May.
She is very fair."
"She is, indeed," said Caleb. And she was indeed. It was
quite a rare thing to Caleb not to have to draw on his invention.
"Her hair is dark," said Bertha, pensively, " darker than
mine. Her voice is sweet and musical, I know. I have often
loved to hear it. Her shape-"
" There's not a doll's in all the room to equal it," said Caleb.
" And her eyes!"He stopped; for Bertha had drawn closer round his neck; and,
from the arm that clung about him, came a warning pressure
which he understood too well.
He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment, and then fell
back upon the song about the Sparkling Bowl; his infallible resource in all such difficulties.
" Our friend, father; our benefactor. I am never tired, you
know, of hearing about him.   Now was I, ever?" she said,
hastily.
"Of course not," answered Caleb. "And with reason."




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

255

"Ah! with how much reason!" cried the Blind Girl. With
such fervency, that Caleb,,though his motives were so pure, could
not endure to meet her face; but dropped his eyes, as if she could
have read in them his innocent deceit.
" Then tell me again about him, dear father," said Bertha.
"Many times again! His face is benevolent, kind, and tender.
Honest and true I am sure it is. The manly heart that tries to
cloak all favors with a show of roughness and unwillingness beats
in its every look and glance."
"And makes it noble," added Caleb, in his quiet despei,ion.
" And makes it noble!" cried the Blind Girl. " He i: older
than May, father?"
"Ye-es," said Caleb, reluctantly. "He's a little old1i than
May, but that don't signify."
" Oh, father, yes! To be his patient companion in ihfirmity
and age; to be his gentle nurse in sickness, and his constant
friend in suffering and sorrow; to know no wearines in working
for his sake; to watch him, tend him; sit beside his bed, and talk
to him awake; and pray for him asleep; what privileges these
would be! What opportunities for proving all her truth and her
devotion to him! Would she do all this, dear father?"
" No doubt of it," said Caleb.
" I love her, father: I can love her from my soul," exclaimed
the Blind Girl. And saying so, she laid her poor blind face on
Caleb's shoulder, and so wept and wept, that he was almost sorry
to have brought that tearful happiness upon her.
In the meantime, there had been a pretty sharp commotion at
John Peerybingle's; for little Mrs. Peerybingle naturally couldn't
think of going anywhere without the Baby; and to get the Baby
under weigh, took time. Not that there was much of the Baby;
speaking of it as a thing of weight and measure-but there was
a vast deal to be done about it, and it all had to be done by easy
stages. For instance: when the Baby was got, by hook and by




ï~~256

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

crook, to a certain point of dressing, and you might have rationally
supposed that another touch or two would finish him off, and turn
him out a tip-top Baby, challenging the world, he was unexpectedly extinguished in a flannel cap, and hustled off to bed; where
he simmered (so to speak) between two blankets for the best part
of an hour. From this state of inaction he was then recalled,
shining very much and roaring violently to partake of-well! I
would rather say, if you'll permit me to speak generally-of a
slight repast. After which, he went to sleep again. Mrs. Peerybingle took advantage of this interval, to make herself as smart
in a small way as ever you saw anybody in all your life; and
during the same short truce, Miss Slowboy insinuated herself into
a spencer of a fashion so surprising and ingenious, that it had nrc
connexion with herself or anything else in the universe, but was
a shrunken, dog's-eared, independent fact, pursuing its lonely
course without the least regard to anybody. By this time, the
Baby, being all alive again, was invested, by the united efforts of
Mrs. Peerybingle and Miss Slowboy, with a cream-colored mantle
for its body, and a sort of nankeen raised-pie for its head; and
so, in course of time, they all three got down to the door, where
the old horse had already taken more than the full value of his
day's toll out of the Turnpike Trust, by tearing up the road with
his impatient autographs-and whence Boxer might be dimly seen
in the remote perspective, standing looking back, and t, mpting him
to come on without orders.
As to a chair, or anything of that kind, for helping Mrs. Peerybingle into the cart, you know very little of John, I flatter myself,
if you think that was necessary. Before you could have seen
him lift her from the ground, there she was in her place, fresl
and rosy, saying, "John! How can you! Think of Tilly!"
If I might be allowed to mention a young lady's legs, on any
terms, 1 would observe of Miss Slowboy's that there was a fatality
about them which rendered them singularly liable to be grazed;




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEAR'I.H.

257

and that she never effected the smallest ascent or descent without
recording the circumstance upon them with a notch, as Robinson
Crusoe marked the days upon his wooden calendar. But as this
might be considered utigenteel, I'll think of it.
"John! You've got the basket with the Veal-and-Ham Pie,
and thmings; and the bottles of Beer?" said Dot. "If you haven't,
you must turn round again, this very minute."
"You're a nice little article," returned the Carrier, "to be talking about turning round, after keeping me a full quarter of an
hour behind my time."
"I am rorry for it, John," said Dot in a great bustle, "but 1
really could not think of going to Bertha's-I wouldn't do it, John,
on any account-without the Veal-and-Ham Pie and things, and
the bottles of Beer.-Way!"
This mon-syl'able was addressed to the horse, who didn't mind
it at all.
" Oh do Way-John!" said Mrs. Peerybingle. "Please!"
" It'll be time enough to do that," returned John, "when I
begin to leave things behind me.  The basket's here, safe
enough."
" What a hard-hearted monster you must be, John, not to have
said so at once, and saved me such a turn! I declare I wouldn't
go to Bertha's without the Veal-and-Ham Pie and things, and
the bottles of Beer, for any money. Regularly once a fortnight
ever since we have been married, John, have we made our little
Pic-Nic there. If anything was to go wrong with it, I should
almost think we were never to be lucky again."
" It was a kind thought in the first instance," said the Carrier;
" and I honor you for it, little woman."
" My dear John," replied Dot, turning very red. " Don't talk
about honoring ME. Good Gracious!"
"By the bye-" observed the Carrier.--" That old gentle
R an"16




ï~~258

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Again so visibly and instantly embarrassed.
"He's an odd fish," said the Carrier, looking straight along
the road before them. "I can't make him out. I don't believe
there's any harm in him."
"None at all. I'm-I'm sure there's none at all."
"Yes? " said the Carrier, with his eyes attracted to her face
by the great earnestness of her manner. "I am glad you feel
so certain of it, because it's a confirmation to me. It's curious
that he should have taken it into his head to ask leave to go on
lodging with us; ain't it? Things come about so strangely."
"So very strangely," she rejoined in a low voice; scarcely
audible.
"However, he's a good-natured old gentleman," said John,
" and pays like a gentleman, and I think his word is to be relied
upon, like a gentleman's. I had quite a long talk with him this
morning; he can hear me better already, he says, as he gets
more used to my voice. He told me a great deal about himself,
and I told him a good deal about myself, and a rare lot of ques
tions he asked me. I gave him information about my having
two beats, you know, in my business; one day to the right from
our house and back again; another day to the left of our
house and back again (for he's a stranger, and don't know
the names of places about here); and he seemed quite pleased.
' Why, then I shall be returning home to-night your way,' he
says, 'when I thought you'd be comrning in an exactly opposite
direction. That's capital. 1 may trouble you for another lift
perhaps, but I'll engage not to fall so sound asleep again.' He
was sound asleep, surely!-Dot! what are you thinking of? "
"Thinking of; John? I-I was listening to you."
"Oh! that's all right!" said the honest Carrier.  "I was
afraid, from the look of your face, that I had gone rambling on
so long, as to set you thinking about something else. I was very
near it, I'll be bound."




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH

259

Dot made no reply; they jogged on for some little time in
silence. But it was not easy to remain silent very long in John
Peerybingle's cart, for everybody on the road had something to
say; and though it might only be " How are you!" and indeed
it was very often nothing else, still, to give that back again in
the right spirit of cordiality, required not merely a nod and a
smile, but as wli)lesome an action of the lungs withal, as a longwinded Parliamentary speech. Sometimes, passengers on foot,
or horseback, plodded on a little way beside the cart, for the express purpose of having a chat; and then there was a great deal
to be said, on both sides.
Then, Boxer gave occasion to more good-natured recognitions
of and by the Carrier, than half a dozen Christians could have
done! Everybody knew him, all along the road, especially the
fowls and pigs, who, when they saw him approaching with his
body all on one side, and his ears pricked up inquisitively, and
that knob of a tail making the most of itself in the air, immediately withdrew into remote back settlements, without waiting
for the honor of a nearer acquaintance. He had business everywhere; going down all the turnings, looking into all the wells,
bolting in and out of all the cottages, dashing into the midst of
all -he Dame-Schools, fluttering all the pigeons, magnifying the
tails of all the cats, and trotting into the public houses like a
regular customer.-Wherever he went, somebody or other might
have been heard to cry, " Halloa! Here's Boxer!" and out
came that somebody, forthwith, accompanied by at least two or
three other somebodies, to give John Peerybingle and his pretty
wife, Good Day.
The packages and parcels for the errand cart, were numerous;
and there were many stoppages to take them in and give them
out; which were not by any means the worst parts of the journey. Some people were so full of expectation about their par.
cels, and other people were so full of wonder about their parcels,




ï~~260

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

ana otner people were so full of inexhaustible directions about
their parcels, and John had such a lively interest in all the pareels, that it was as good as a. play. Likewise, there were articles to carry, which required to be considered and discussed,
and in reference to the adjustment and disposition of which,
councils had to be holden by the Carrier and the senders; at
which Boxer usually assisted, in short fits of the closest attention,
and long fits of tearing round and round the assembled sages and
barking himself hoarse. Of all these little incidents, Dot was
the amused and opera eyed spectatress from her chair in the cart;
and as she sat there, looking on; a charming little portrait
framed to admirati -i by the tilt; there was no lack of nudgings,
and glancings, and whisperings and envyings among the younger
men, I promise you. And this delighted John the Carrier, beyond measure; for he was proud to have his little wife admired,
knowing that she didn't mind it-that, if anything, she rather
liked it perhaps.
The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the January weather;
and was raw and cold. But who cared for such trifles? Not
Dot, decidedly! Not Tilly Slowboy, for she deemed sitting in a
cart, on any terms, to be the highest point of human joys, the
crowning circumstance of earthly hopes. Not the Baby, I'll be
sworn; for it is not in Baby nature to be warmer or more sound
asleep, though its capacity is great in both respects, than that
blessed young Peerybingle was. all the way.
You couldn't see very far in the fog, of course; but you could
see a great deal, oh a great deal! It's astonishing how much you
may see, in a thicker fog than that, if you will only take the trouble to
gook for it. Why, even to sit watching for the Fairy-rings in the
fields, and for the patches of hoar-frost still lingering in the shade,
near hedges and by trees, was a pleasant occupation; to make no
mention of the unexpected shapes in which the trees themselves
came starting out of the mist, and glided into it again. The




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.
nedges were tangled and bare, and waved a multitude of blignteu
garlands in the wind; but there was no discouragement in this.
It was agreeable to contemplate; for it made the fireside warmc.
in possession, and the summer greener in exoectancy. The river
looked chilly; but it was in motion, and moving at a good pace;
which was a great point. The canal was rather slow and torpid;
that must be admitted. Never mind. It would freeze the sooner
when the frost set fairly in, and then there would be skating, and
sliding; and the heavy old barges, frozen up somewhere, near a
wharf, would smoke their rusty iron chimney-pipes all day, and
have a lazy time of it.
In one place, there was a great mound of weeds or stubble
burning; and they watched the fire, so white in the day time,
flaring through the fog, with only here and there a dash of red in
it, until, in consequence as she observed of the smoke " getting
up her nose," Miss Slowboy choked-she could do anything of
that sort, on the smallest provocation-and woke the Baby, who
wouldn't go to sleep again. But Boxer, who was in advance
some quarter of a mile or so, had already passed the outposts of
the town, and gained the corner of the street where Caleb and his
daughter lived; and long before they reached the door, he and
the Blind Girl were on the pavement waiting to receive them.
Boxer, by the way, made certain delicate aistinctions of his
own, in his communication with Bertha, which persuaded me
fully that he knew her to be blind. He never sought to attract
her attention by looking at her, as he often did with other people,
but touched her invariably. What experience he could ever
have had of blind people or blind dogs, I don't know. He had
never lived with a blind master; nor had Mr. Boxer the elder,
nwr Mrs. Boxer, nor any of his respectable family on either side.
ever been visited with blindness, that I am aware of. He may
have found it out for himself, perhaps, but he had got hold of it
somehow; and thereflbre he had hold of Bertha too, by the skirt,




ï~~2)1           CHRISTMAS STORIES.
and kept hold, until Mrs. Peerybingle and the Baby, and Miss
Slowboy and the basket, were all got safely within doors,
May Fielding was already come; and so was her mother-a
little querulous chip of an old lady with a peevish face, who, in
right of having preserved a waist like a bedpost, was supposed to
be a most transcendant figure; and who, in consequence of
having once been better off, or of laboring under an impression
that she might have been, if something had happened which never
did happen, and seemed to have never been particularly likely to
come to pass-but it's all the same-was very genteel and patronising indeed.  Gruff and Tackleton was also there, doing the
agreeable; with the evident sensation of being as perfectly at
home, and as unquestionably in his own element, as a fresh
young salmon on the top of the Great Pyramid.
" May! My dear old friend!" cried Dot, running up to meet
her. " What a happiness to see you."
Her old friend was, to the full, as hearty and as glad as she;
and it really was, if you'll believe me, quite a pleasant sight to
see them embrace. Tackleton was a man of taste, beyond all
question. May was very pretty.
You know sometimes, when you are used to a pretty face, how,
when it comes into contact and comparison with another pretty
face, it seems for the moment to be homely and faded, and hardly
to deserve the high opinion you have had of it. Now, this was
not at all the case, either with Dot or May; for May's face set
off Dot's, and Dot's face set off May's, so naturally and agreeably
that, as John Peerybingle was very near saying, when he came
into the room, they ought to have been born sisters: which was
the only improvement you could have suggested.
Tackleton had brought his leg of mutton, and wonderful to
relate, a tart besides-but we don't mind a little dissipation when
our brides are in the case; we don't get married every dayand in addition to these dainties, there were the Veal-and-Hiam




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

263

Pic, and "things," as Mrs. Peerybingle called them; which
were chiefly nuts and oranges, and cakes, and such small deer.
When the repast was set forth on the board, flanked by Caleb's
contribution, which was a great wooden bowl of smoking potatoes
(he was prohibited by solemn compact from producing any other
viands), Tackleton led his intended mother-in-law to the Post of
Honor. For the better gracing of this place at the high Festival,
the majestic old Soul had adorned herself with a cap, calculated
to inspire the thoughtless with sentiments of awe. She also wore
her gloves. But let us be genteel, or die!
Caleb sat next his daughter; Dot and her old schoolfellow were
side by side; the good Carrier took care of the bottom of the
table. Miss Slowboy was isolated, for the time being, from
every article of furniture but the chair she sat on, that she might
have nothing else to knock the Baby's head against.
As Tilly stared about her at the Dolls and Toys, they stared at
her and at the company. The venerable old gentlemen at the
street doors (who were all in full action) showed especial interest
in the party; pausing occasionally before leaping, as if they were
listening to the conversation; and then plunging wildly over and
over, a great many times, without halting for breath,-as in a
frantic state of delight with the whole proceedings.
Certainly, if these old gentlemen were inclined to have a fiendish joy in the contemplation of Tackleton's discomfiture, they had
good reason to be satisfied. Tackleton couldn't get on at all; and
the more cheerful his intended Bride became in Dot's society, the
less he liked it, though he had brought them together for that purpose. For he was a regular Dog in the Manger, was Tackleton;
and when they laughed, and he couldn't, he took it into his head,
immediately, that they must be laughing at him.
"Ah, May," said Dot. " Dear, dear, what changes! To talk
of those merry school-days makes one young again."




ï~~264

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" Why, you ain't particularly old, at any time; are you?" said
Tackleton.
" Look at my sober, plodding husband, there," returned Dot.
"lie adds twenty years to my age, at least. Don't you, John?"
"Forty," John replied.
"How many You '11 add to May's, I am sure I don't know," said
Dot, laughing. "But she can't be much less than a hundred
years of age on her next birth-day."
" Ha, ha!" laughed Tackleton. Hollow as a drum that laugh
though. And he looked as if he could have twisted Dot's neck:
comfortably.
"Dear, dear," said Dot. "Only to remember how we used to talk,
at school, about the husbands we would choose. I don't know
how young, and how handsome, and how gay, and how likely,
mine was not to be! and as to May's!-Ah dear! I don't know
whether to laugh or cry, when I think what silly girls we were."
May seemed to know which to do; for the color flashed into
her face, and tears stood in her eyes.
"Even the very persons themselves-real live young men-we
fixed on sometimes," said Dot. "We little thought h)w things
would come about. I never fixed on John, I 'm sure; I never so
much as thought of him. And if I had told you, you were ever
to be married to Mr. Tackleton, why you'd have slapped me.
Wouldn't you, May?"
Though May didn't say yes, she certainly didn't say no, or
express no, by any means.
Tackleton laughed-quite shouted, he laughed so loud. John
Peerybingle laughed too, in his ordinary good-natured and contented manner; but his was a mere whisper of a laugh to
Tackleton'
"You couldn't help yourselves, for all that. You couldn't
resist us, you see," said Tackleton. " Here we are! Here we
are! Where are your gay young bridegrooms now?"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

265

" Some of them are dead," said Dot; " and some of them forgotten. Some of them, if they could stand among us, at this moment, would not believe we were the same creatures: would not
believe that what they saw and heard was real, and we COULD
tbrget them so. No; they wouldn't believe one word of it!"
" Why, Dot," exclaimed the Carrier. " Little woman!"
She had spoken with such earnestness and fire, that she stood
in need of some recalling to herself, without doubt. Her husband's check was very gentle, for he merely interfered, as he
supposed, to shield old Tackleton; but it proved effectual, for she
stopped and said no more. There was an uncommon agitation,
even in her silence, which the wary Tackleton, who had brought
his half-shut eye to bear upon her, noted closely; and remembered
to some purpose too, as you will see.
May uttered no word, good or bad, but sat quite still, with her
eyes cast down; and made no sign of interest in what had passed.
The good lady her mother now interposed; observing, in the first
instance, that girls were girls and byegones byegones, and that so
long as young people were young and thoughtless, they woul,
probably conduct themselves like young and thoughtless persons;
with two or three other positions of a no less sound and incontrovertible character. She then remarked, in a devout spirit, that
she thanked Heaven she had always found in her daughter May
a dutiful and obedient child; for which she took no credit to herself, though she had every reason to believe it was entirely owing
to herself.  With regard to Mr. Tackleton she said, That he
was in a moral point of view an undeniable individual; and That
h was in an eligible point of view a son-in-law to be desired, no
one in their senses could doubt. (She was very emphatic here.)
With regard to the family into which he was so soon about, after
some solicitation, to be admitted, she believed Mr. Tackleton
knew that, although reduced in purse, it had some pretensions to
gentility; and that if certain circumstances, not wholly uncon



ï~~2r,()

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

nected, she would go so far as to say, with the Indigo Trade, bu
to which she would not more particularly refer, had happened
differently, it might perhaps have been in possession of Wealth.
She then remarked that she would not allude to the past, and
would not mention that her daughter had for some time rejected
the suit of Mr. Tackleton; and that she would not say a great
many other things which she did say, at great length. Finally,
she delivered it as the general result of her observation and experience, that those marriages in which there was least of what
was romantically and sillily called love, were always the happiest; and that she anticipated the greatest possible amount of
bliss-not rapturous bliss; but the solid, steady-going articlefrom the approaching nuptials. She concluded by informing the
company that to-morrow was the day she had lived for, expressly;
and that when it was over, she would desire nothing better than
to be packed up and disposed of, in any genteel place of burial.
As these remarks were quite unanswerable-which is the
happy property of all remarks that are sufficiently wide of the
purpose; they changed the current of the conversation, and
diverted the general attention to the Veal-and-Ham Pie, the cold
mutton, the potatoes, and the tart. In order that the bottled beer
might not be slighted, John Peerybingle proposed To-morrowthe Wedding Day; and called upon them to drink a bumper to
it, before he proceeded on his journey.
For you ought to know that he only rested there, and gave the
old horse a bait. He had to go some four or five miles farther
on; and when he returned in the evening, he called for Dot, and
took another rest on his way home. This was the order of the
day on all the Pic-Nic occasions, and had been ever since their
institution.
There were two persons present, besides the bride and bridegroom elect, who did but indifferent honor to the toast. One of
these was Dot, too flushed and discomposed to adapt herself to




ï~~CRICKET ON TIHE HEARTH.

267

any small occurrence of the moment; the other Bertha, who
rose up hurriedly, before the rest, and left the table.
" Good bye!" said stout John Peerybingle, pulling on his
dreadnaught coat. "I shall be back at the old time. Good bye,
all "
" Good bye, John," returned Caleb.
He seemed to say it by rote, and to wave his hand in the same
unconscious manner: for he stood observing Bertha with an
anxious wondering face, that never altered its expression.
" Good bye, young shaver!" said the jolly Carrier, bending
down to kiss the child; which Tilly Slowboy, now intent upon
her knife and fork, had deposited asleep (and, strange to say,
without damage) in a little cot of Bertha's furnishing; " good
bye; Time will come, I suppose, when you'll turn out into the
cold, my little friend, and leave your old father to enjoy his pipe
and his rheumatics in the chimney-corner; eh?  Where's
Dot?"
"I'm here, John!" she said, starting.
"Come, come!" returned the Carrier, clapping his sounding
hands. " Where's the Pipe?"
"I quite forgot the pipe, John."
"Forgot the pipe! Was such a wonder ever heard of! She!
Forgot the pipe!"
" I 'll-I '11 fill it directly. It's soon done."
But it was not so soon done, either. It lay in the usual place,
the Carrier's dreadnaught pocket, with the little pouch, her own
work; from which she was used to fill it; but her hand shook
so, that she entangled it (and yet her hand was small enough to
have come out easily, I am sure), and bungled terribly. The
filling of the Pipe and lightLng it; those little offices in which I
have commended her discretion, if you recollect-were vilely
done, from first to last. During the whole process, Tackleton
stood looking on maliciously with the half closed eye; which,




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

whenever it met her's-or caught it, for it can hardly be said to
have ever met another eye; rather being a kind of trap to snatch
it up-augmented her confusion in a most remarkable degree.
" Why, what a clumsy Dot you are, this afternoon! " said
John. " I could have done it better myself, I verily believe!"
With these good-natured words he strode away, and presently
was heard, in company with Boxer, and the old horse, and the
cart, making lively music down the road. What time the dreamy
Caleb still stood, watching his Blind Daughter, with the same expression on his face.
" Bertha," said Caleb, softly. "What has happened? How
changed you are, my darling, in a few hours-since this morning. You silent and dull all day! What is it? Tell me!"
" Oh, father, father! " cried the Blind Girl, bursting into tears.
" Oh, my hard, hard Fate!"
Caleb drew his hand across his eyes before he answered her.
" But think how cheerful and how happy you have been, Bei
tha! How good, and how much loved, by many people."
" That strikes me to the heart, dear father! Always so mind
ful of me! Always so kind to me!"
Caleb was very much perplexed to understand her.
" To be-to be blind, Bertha, my poor dear," he faltered, " it
a great affliction; but-"
"I have never felt it!" cried the blind girl. " I have never
felt it in its fullness. Never! I have sometimes wished that I
could see you, or could see him; only once, dear father; only
for one little minute; that I might know what it is I treasure up,"
she laid her hand upon her breast, "and hold here! That I
might be sure I have it right I And sometimes (but then I was
a child) I have wept, in my prayers at night, to think that when
your images ascended from my heart to Heaven, they might not
be the true resemblance of yoursolves. But I have never had




ï~~CRICKET ON TIHE HEARTH.

269

%hese feelings long. They have passed away, and left me tran.
quil and contented."
"And they will again," said Caleb.
" But father! Oh my good, gentle father, bear with me, if I
am wicked! " said the blind girl. " This is not the sorrow that
so weighs me down!"
Her father could not choose but let his moist eyes overflow;
she was so earnest and pathetic. But he did not understand
her yet.
"Bring her to me," said Bertha. "I cannot hold it closed and
shut within myself. Bring her to me, father!"
She knew he hesitated, and said, " May. Bring May!"
May heard the mention of her name, and coming quietly towards her, touched her on the arm. The blind girl turned immediately, and held her by both hands.
" Look into my face, dear heart, sweet heart! " said Bertha.
"Read it with your beautiful eyes, and tell me if the truth is
written on it."
" Dear Bertha, yes!"
The blind girl still, upturning the blank sightless face, down
which the tears were coursing fast, addressed her in these words:
" There is not, in my soul, a wish or thought that is not for
your good, bright May! There is not, in my soul, a grateful
recollection stronger than the deep remembrance which is stored
there, of the many, many times when, in the full pride of Sight
and Beauty, you have had consideration for blind Bertha, even
when we two were children, or when Bertha was as much a child
as ever blindness can be! Every blessing on your head! Light
upon your happy course! Not the less, my dear May;" and
she drew towaris her, in a closer grasp; "not the less, my bird,
because to-day, the knowledge that you are to be his wife has
wrung my heart almost to breaking! Father, May, May! oh
forgive me that it is so, for the sake of all he has done to relieve




ï~~270

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

the weariness of my dark life: and for the sake of the belief you
have in me, when I caL Heaven to witness that I could not wish
him married to a wife more worthy of his goodness!"
While speaking, she had released May Fielding's hands, and
clasped her garments in an attitude of mingled supplication and
love. Sinking lower and lower down, as she proceeded in her
strange confession, she dropped at last at the feet of her friend,
and hid her blind face in the folds of her dress.
" Great Power! " exclaimed her father, smitten at one blow
with the truth, " have I deceived her from the cradle, but to
break her heart at last!"
It was well for all of them that Dot, that beaming, useful, busy
little Dot-for such she was, whatever faults she had; however
you may learn to hate her, in good time-it was well for all of
them, I say, that she was there: or where this would have ended,
it were hard to tell. But Dot, recovering her self-possession, interposed, before May could reply, or Caleb say another word.
" Come, come, dear Bertha! come away with me! Give her
your arm, May. So! How composed she is, you see, already;
and how good it is of her to mind us," said the cheery little woman,
kissing her upon the forehead. " Come away, dear Bertha!
Come, and here's her good father will come with her; won't you,
Caleb. To-be-sure!"
Well, well, she was a noble little Dot in such things, and it
must have been an obdurate nature that could have withstood her
influence. When she had got poor Caleb and his Bertha away,
that they might comfort and console each other, as she knew they
only could, she presently came bouncing back,-as the saying
is, as fresh as any daisy; I say fresher-to mount guard over
that bridling little piece of consequence in the cap and gloves,
and prevent the dear old creature from making discoveries.
" So bring me the precious Baby, Tilly," said she, drawing
a chair to the fire; " and while I have it in my lap, here's Mrs.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

271

Fielding, Tilly, will tell me all about the management of babies,
and put me right in twenty points where I'm as wrong as can be
Won't you, Mrs. Fielding? "
Not even the Welsh Giant, who, according to the popular ex.
pression, was so " slow " as to perform a fatal surgical operation
upon himself, in emulation of a juggling-trick achieved by his
arch-enemy at breakfast-time; not even he fell half so readily
into the snare prepared for him, as the old lady into this artful
pitfall. The fact of Tackleton having walked out; and furthermore, of two or three people having been talking together at a
distance, for two minutes, leaving her to her own resources; was
quite enough to have put her on her dignity, and the bewailment
of that mysterious convulsion in the Indigo trade, for four-andtwenty hours. But this becoming deference to her experience,
on the part of the young mother, was so irresistible, that after a
short affectation of humility, she began to enlighten her with the
best grace in the world; and sitting bolt upright before the wicked
Dot, she did, in half an hour, deliver more infallible domestic recipes and precepts, than would (if acted on) have utterly destroyed
and done up that young Peerybingle, though he had been an
infant Samson.
To change the theme, Dot did a little needlework-she carried the contents of a whole workbox in her pocket; how ever
she contrived it, I don't know-then did a little nursing; then a
little more needlework; then had a little whispering chat with
May, while the old lady dozed; and so in little bits of bustle,
which was quite her manner always, found it a very short afternoon. Then, as it grew dark, and as it was a solemn part of this
institution of the Pic-Nic that she should perform all Blertha's
household tasks, she trimmed the fire, and swept the hearth, and
set the tea-board out, and drew the curtain, and lighted a candle.
Then, she played an air or two on a rude kind of harp, Wrich
Caleb had contrived for Bertha, and played them very well; fo




ï~~272

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Nature had made her delicate little ear as choice a one for music
as it would have been for jewels, if she had had any to wear.
By this time it was the established hour for having tea; and
Tackleton came back again, to share the meal, and spend the
evening.
Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before, and Caleb
had sat down to his afternoon's work. But he couldn't settle to
it, poor fellow, being anxious and remorseful for his daughter. It
was touching to see him sitting idle on his working-stool, regarding her so wistfully; and always saying in his face, " Have I
deceived her from her cradle, but to break her heart!"
When it was night, and tea was done, and Dot had nothing
more to do in washing up the cups and saucers; in a word-for
I must come to it, and there is no use in putting it off-when the
time drew nigh for expecting the Carrier's return in every sound
of distant wheels; her manner changed again: her color came
and went; and she was very restless. Not as good wives are,
when listening for their husbands. No, no, no. It was another
sort of restlessness from that.
Wheels heard. A horse's feet. The barking of a dog. The
gradual approach of all the sounds. The scratching paw of
Boxer at the door.
" Whose step is that?" cried Bertha, starting up.
" Whose step?" returned the Carrier, standing in the portal,
with his brown face ruddy as a winter berry from the keen night
air. "Why, mine."
" The other step," said Bertha. "The man's tread behind
you."
" She is not to be deceived," observed the Carrier, laughing.
'" Come along, sir. You'll be welcome, never fear."
He spoke in a loud tone; and as he spoke, the deaf old gentle..
man entered.
" He's not so much a stranger, that you hav'n't seen him once;




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

278

Caleb," said the Carrier. "You'll give him house-room till we
go?"
"Oh, surely, John; and take it as an honor."
"He's the best company on earth, to talk secrets in," said John.
SI have reasonable good lungs, but he tries 'em, I can tell you.
Sit down, sir. All friends here, and glad to see you."
When he imparted this assurance, in a voice that amply corroborated what he had said about his lungs, he added in his natural tone, "A chair in the chimney corner, and leave to sit quite
silent and look pleasantly about him, is all he cares for. He's
easily pleased."
Bertha had been listening intently. She called Caleb to her
side, when he had set the chair, and asked him in a low voice, to
describe their visitor. When he had done so (truly now; with
scrupulous fidelity), she moved for the first time since he had
come in; and sighed; and seemed to have no further interest
concerning him.
The Carrier was in high spirits, good fellow that he was; and
fonder of his little wife than ever.
" A clumsy Dot she was, this afternoon!" he said, encircling
her with his rough arm, as she stood removed from the rest; "and
yet I like her somehow. See yonder, Dot."
He pointed to the old man. She looked down. I think she
trembled.
" He 's-ha, ha, ha!-he 's full of admiration for you!" said
the Carrier. "Talked of nothing else, the whole way here.
Why, he's a brave old boy. I like him for it."
"I wish he had a better subject, John;" she said, with an uneasy glance about the room; at Tackleton particularly.
"A better subject?" cried the jovial John. "There 's no such
thing. Come, off with the great coat, off with the thick shawl,
off with the heavy wrappers! and a cosy half-hour by the fire!
My humble service, Mistress. A game at cribbage, you and I?
L




ï~~274

CHRISTMAS STOR1ES.

That's hearty. The cards and board, Dot. And a glass of beer,
here, if there's any left, small wife?"
His challenge was addressed to the old lady, who accepting it
with gracious readiness, they were soon engaged upon tne game.
At first, the Carrier looked about him sometimes with a smile, or
now and then called Dot to peep over his shoulder at his hand,
and advise him on some knotty point. But his adversary being a
rigid disciplinarian, and subject to an occasional weakness in
respect of pegging more than she was entitled to, required such
vigilance on his part, as left him neither eyes nor ears to spare.
Thus, his whole attention gradually became absorbed in the
cards; and he thought of nothing else, until a hand upon his
shoulder restored him to a consciousness of Tackleton.
"I am sorry to disturb you-but a word, directly."
"I'm going to deal," returned the Carrier. " It's a crisis."
"It is," said Tackleton. "Come here, man."
There was something in his pale face which made him rise im
mediately, and ask him in a hurry, what the matter was.
"Hush! John Peerybingle," said Tackleton. "I am sorry for
this. I am indeed. I have been afraid of it. I have suspected
it from the first."
" What is it?" asked the Carrier, with a frightened aspect.
"Hush! I'll show you, if you 'll come with me."
The Carrier accompanied him, without another word. They
went across a yard, where the stars were shining; and by a little
side door into Tackleton's own counting-house, where there was
a glass window commanding the wareroom, which was closed for
the night. There was no light in the counting-house itself, but
there were lamps in the long narrow wareroom; and conse.
ouently the window was bright.
"A moment?" said Tackleton. "Can you bear to look through
that window, do you think?"
"Why not?" returned the Carrier.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

275

" A moment more," said Tackleton. "Don't commit any violence. It 's of no use. It's dangerous too. You 're a strong.
made man; and you might do murder before you know it."
The Carrier looked him in the face, and recoiled a step as if he
had been struck. In one stride he was at the window, and he sawOh Shadow on the hearth! Oh truthful Cricket! Oh perfidious Wife!
He saw her, with the old man; old no longer, but erect and
gallant; bearing in his hand the false white hair that had won his
way into their desolate and miserable home. He saw her listening
to him, as he bent his head to whisper in her ear; and suffered
him to clasp her round the waist, as they moved slowly down th.,
dim wooden gallery towards the door by which they had entered
it. He saw them stop, and saw her turn    to have the face,
the face he loved so, so presented to his view!---and he saw
her, with her own hands, adjust the Lie upon his head, laughing,
as she did it, at his unsuspicious nature!
He clenched his strong right hand at first, as if it would have
beaten down a lion. But opening it immediately again, he spread
it out before the eyes of Tackleton (for he was tender of her, even
then), and so, as they passed out, fell down upon a desk, and was
as weak as an infant.
He was wrapped up to the chin, and busy with his horse and
parcels, when she came into the room, prepared for going home.
"Now, John, dear! Good night, May! Good night, Bertha!"
Could she kiss them? Could she be blithe and cheerful in
parting? Could she venture to reveal her face to them without a
blush? Yes. Tackleton observed her closely; and she did all
this.
Tilly was hushing the Baby; and she crossed and recrossed
Tackleton, a dozen times, repeating drowsily,
" Did the knowledge that it was to be its wifes, then, wring




ï~~276

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

its hearts almost to breaking; and did its fathers deceive it fromr;ts cradles but to break its hearts at last!"
" Now, Tilly, give me the Baby. Good night, Mr. Tackleton.
Where's John, for goodness sake?"
" He 's going to walk, beside the horse's head," said Tackleton;
who helped her to her seat.
"My dear John. Walk? To-night?"
The muffled figure of her husband made a hasty sign in the
affirmative; and the false Stranger and the little nurse being in
their places, the old horse moved off. Boxer, the unconscious
Boxer, running on before, running back, running round and round
the cart, and barking as triumphantly and merrily as ever.
When Tackleton had gone off likewise, escorting May and her
mother home, poor Caleb sat down by the fire beside his daughter;
anxious and remorseful at the core; and still saying in his wistful contemplation of her, "Have I deceived her from her cradle,
but to break her heart at last!"
The toys that had been set in motion for the Baby, had akl
stopped and run down, long ago. In the faint light and silence,
the imperturbably calm dolls; the agitated rocking-horses with
distended eyes and nostrils; the old gentlemen at the street doors,
standing half doubled up, upon their failing knees and ankles;
the wry-faced nuterackers; the very beasts upon their way into
the Ark, in twos, like a boarding-school out walking; might have
been imagined to be stricken motionless with fantastic wonder, at
Dot being false, or Tackleton beloved, under any combination of
circumstances.




ï~~CHIRP TIlE THIRD.

THE Dutch clock in the corner struck ten, when the Carrier sat
down by his fireside. So troubled and grief-worn, that he seemed
to scare the Cuckoo, who, having cut his ten melodious announcements as short as possible, plunged back into thie Moorish Palace
again, and clapped his little door behind him, a.s if the unwonted
spectacle were too much for his feelings.
If the little Haymaker had been armed with the sharpest of
scythes, and had cut at every stroke into the Carrier's heart, he
never could have gashed and wounded it, as Dot had done.
It was a heart so full of love for her; so bound up and held
together by innumerable threads of winning remembrance, spur
from the daily working of her many qualities of endearment; it
was a heart in which she had enshrined herself so gently and so
closely; a heart so single and so earnest in its Truth; so strong
in right, so weak in wrong; that it could cherish neither lassion nor revenge at first, and had only room to hold the broken
image of its Idol.
But slowly, slowly-as the Carrier sat brooding on his hearth,
now cold and dark-other and fiercer thoughts began to rise
within him, as an angry wind comes rising in the night. The
Stranger was beneath his outraged roof. Three steps would take
him to his chamber door. One blow would beat it in.  'You
might do murder before you know it," Tackleton had said. How
could it be murder, if he gave the villain time to grapple with
him hand to hand! He was the younger man.
it was an ill-timed thought, bad for the dark mood of his mind
277




ï~~78

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

It was an angry thought, goading him to some avenging act, that
should change the cheerful house into a haunted place which
lonely travellers would dread to pass by night; and where the
timid would see shadows struggling in the ruined windows when
the moon was dim, and hear wild noises in the stormy weather.
He was the younger man! Yes, yes; some lover who had won
the heart that HE had never touched. Some lover of her early
choice; of whom she had thought and dreamed; for whom she
had pined and pined, when he had fancied her so happy by his
side. Oh, agony to think of it.
She had been above stairs with the baby, getting it to bed. As
he sat brooding on the hearth, she came close beside him without
his knowledge-in the turning of the rack of his great misery,
he lost all other sounds-and put her little stool at his feet. He
only knew it when he felt her hand upon his own, and saw her
looking up into his face.
With wonder? No. It was his first impression, and he was
fain to look at her again, to set it right. No, not with wonder.
With an eager and inquiring look, but not with wonder. At first
it was alarmed and serious; then it changed into a strange, wild,
dreadful smile of recognition of his thoughts; then there was
nothing but her clasped hands on her brow, and her bent head,
and falling hair.
Though the power of Omnipotence had been his to wield at
that moment, he had too much of its Diviner property Mercy in
his breast, to have turned one feather's weight of it against her.
But he could not bear to see her crouching down upon the little
seat where he had often looked upon her, with love and pride, so
innocent and gay; and when she rose and left him, sobbing as
she went, he felt it a relief to have the vacant place beside him
rather than her so long cherished presence. This in itself was
anguish keener than all: reminding him how desolate he was
become, and how the great bond of his life was rent asunder.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

279

Tne more ne felt this, and the more he knew he could have
better borne to see her lying prematurely dead before him with
their little child upon her breast, the higher and the stronger rose
his wrath against his enemy. He looked about him for a
weapon.
There was a gun hanging on the wall. He took it down, and
moved a pace or two towards the door of the perfidious stranger's
room. He knew the gun was loaded. Some shadowy idea that
it was just to shoot this man like a wild beast, seized him; and
dilated in his mind until it grew into a monstrous demon in complete possession of him, casting out all milder thoughts, and setting up its undivided empire.
That phrase is wrong. Not casting out his milder thoughts,
but artfully transforming them. Changing them into scourges to
drive him on. Turning water into blood. Love into hate. Gentleness into blind ferocity.  Her image, sorrowing, humbled,
but still pleading to his tenderness and mercy with resistless
power, never left his mind; but staying there, it urged him to
the door; raised the weapon to his shoulder; fitted and nerved
his finger to the trigger; and cried, "Kill him! in his bed!"
He reversed the gun to beat the stock upon the door; he already
held it lifted in the air; some indistinct design was in his thoughts
of calling out to him to fly, for God's sake, by the windowWhen, suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole
chimney with a glow of light, and the Cricket on the Hearth
began to chirp!
No sound he could have heard; no human voice, not even
her's; could so have moved and softened him. The artless
words in which she had told him her love for this same Cricket,
were once more freshly spoken; her trembling, earnest manner
at the moment, was again before him; her pleasant voice--oh
what a voice it was, for making household music at the fireside




ï~~280

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

of an honest man! thrilled through and through his better nature
and awoke it into life and action.
He recoiled from the door, like a man walking in his sleep
awakened from a frightful dream; and put the gun aside.
Clasping his hands before his face, he then sat down again )eside
the fire, and found relief in tears.
The Cricket on the Hearth came out into the room, and stood
in Fairy shape before him.
" ' I love it,' " said the Fairy Voice, repeating what he well
remembered, "' for the many times I have heard it, and the
many thoughts its harmless music has given me.' "
"She said so! " cried the Carrier. " True!"
" ' This has been a happy Home, John; and I love the Cricket
for its sake!' "
" It has been, Heaven knows," returned the Carrier. " She
made it happy, always, until now."
" So gracefully sweet-tempered; so domestic, joyful, busy ann
light-hearted!" said the Voice.
"Otherwise I never could have loved her as I did," returned
the Carrier.
The Voice, correcting him, said " do."
The Carrier repeated "as I did."  But not firmly. His faltering tongue resisted his control, and would speak in its own
way, for itself and him.
The figure, in an attitude of invocation, raised its hand and
said:
"Upon your own hearth"" The hearth she has blighted," interposed the Carrier.
"The hearth she has, how often!-blessed and brightened,"
said the Cricket: " the hearth which, but for her, were only a
few stones and bricks and rusty bars, but which has been, through
her, the Altar of your Home; on which you have nightly sacri-.
ficed some petty passion, selfishness, or care, and ofbered up:hii,




ï~~CRICKET ON  TIHE  HEARTH.

281

homage of a tranquil mind, a trusting nature, and an overflowing
heart; so that the smoke from this poor chimney has gone upward with a better fragrance than the richest incense that is
burnt before the richest shrines in all the gaudy Temples of the
World! Upon your own hearth; in its quiet sanctuary; surrounded by its gentle influences and associations; hear her!
Hear me! Hear everything that speaks the language of your
hearth and home!"
"And pleads for her? " inquired the Carrier.
"All things that speak the language of your hearth and home
must plead for her!" returned the Cricket. "For they speak
the Truth."
And while the Carrier, with his head upon his hands, continued to sit meditating in his chair, the Presence stood beside
him; suggesting his reflections by its power, and presenting them
before him, as in a glass or picture. It was not a solitary Presence.  From the hearthstone, from the chimney; from the
clock, the pipe, the kettle, and the cradle; from the floor, the walls,
the ceiling, and the stairs; from the cart without, and the cupboard within, and the household implements; from every thing and
every place with which she had ever beern familiar, and with which
she had ever entwined one recollection of herself in her unhappy
husband's mind; Fairies came trooping forth. Not to stand beside
him as the Cricket did, but to busy and bestir themselves. To do
all honor to her image. To pull him by the skirts, and point to it
when it appeared. To cluster round it, and embrace it, and
strew flowers for it to tread on. To try to crown its fair head
with their tiny hands. To show that they were fond of it and
loved it; and that there was not one ugly, wicked, or accusatory
creature to claim knowledge of it; none but their playful anu
approving selves.
His thoughtst were constant to tier Image. It was always
there.




ï~~282

bHRISTMAS STORIES.

She sat plying ner needle, before the fire, and singming to her.
self.  Such a blithe, thriving, steady little Dot! The fairy
figures turned upon him all at once, by one consent, with one
prodigious concentrated stare, and seemed to say, " Is this the
light wife you are mourning for!"
There were sounds of gaiety outside; musical instruments and
noisy tongues, and laughter. A crowd of young merry-makers
came pouring in; among whom were May Fielding and a score
of pretty girls. Dot was the fairest of them all; as young as
any of them too. They came to summon her to join their party.
It was a dance. If ever little foot were made for dancing, hers
was surely. But she laughed, and shook her head, and pointed
to her cookery on the fire, and her table ready spread; with an
exulting defiance that rendered her more charming than she was
before, And so she merrily dismissed them; nodding to her
would-be partners, one by one, as they passed out, with a comical indifference, enough to make them go and drown themselves
immediately if they were her admirers-and they must have
been so, more or less; they couldn't help it. And yet indifference was not her character. Oh no! For presently there came
a cei ain Carrier to the door; and bless her what a welcome she
best red upon him!
A rain the staring figures turned upon him all at once, and
sec ned to say, " Is this the wife who has forsaken you!"
A shadow fell upon the mirror or the picture; call it what
you will. A great shadow of the Stranger, as he first stood
underneath their roof; covering its surface, and blotting out all
)ther objects. But the nimble fairies worked like bees to clear
it off again; and Dot again was there. Still bright and beau-.iful.
Rocking her little baby in its cradle; singing to it softly; and
resting her head upon a shoulder which had its counterpart in
the musing figure by which the Fairy Cricket stood.




ï~~CRICKET ON THIE HEARTH.

283

The night-I mean the real night; not going by Fairy clocks
-was wearing now; and in this stage of the Carrier's thoughts,
the moon burst out and shone brightly in the sky. Perhaps some
calm and quiet light had risen also, in his mind; and he could
think more soberly of what had happened.
Although the shadow of the Stranger fell at intervals upon the
glass-always distinct and big, and thoroughly defined-it never
fell so darkly as at first. Whenever it appeared, the Fairies
uttered a general cry of consternation, and plied their little arms
and legs, with inconceivable activity, to rub it out. And whenever they got a Dot again, and showed her to him once more,
bright and beautiful, they cheered in the most inspiring manner.
They never showed her, otherwise than beautiful and bright,
for they were Household Spirits to whom Falsehood is annihila.
tion; and being so, what Dot was there for them, but the one
active, beaming, pleasant little creature who had been the light
and sun of the Carrier's Home!
The Fairies were prodigiously excited when they showed her,
with the Baby, gossiping among a knot of sage old matrons, and
affecting to be wondrous old and matronly herself, and leaning in
a staid demure old way upon her husband's arm, attemptingshe! such a bud of a little woman-to convey the idea of having
abjured the vanities of the world in general, and of being the sort
of person to whom it "was no novelty at all to be a mother; yet
in the same breath, they showed her, laughing at the Carrier for
being awkward, and pulling up his shirt-collar to make him
smart, and mincing merrily about that very room to teach him
how to dance!
They turned and stared immensely at him when they showed
her with the Blind Girl; for though she carried cheerfulness and animation with her wheresoever she went, she bore those influences
into Caleb Plummer's home, heaped up and running over. The
Blind Girl's love for her, and trust in her, and gratitude to her; her




ï~~284

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

own good busy way of setting Bertha's thanks asid; her dexterous
little arts for filling up each moment of the visit in doing sometib:ng useful to the house, and really working hard, while feigni:g to make holiday; her bountiful provision of those standing
delicacies, the Veal-and-Ham Pie and the bottles of Beer; her
radiant little face arriving at the door and taking leave; the
wonderful expression in her whole self, from her neat foot to the
crown of her head, of being a part of the establishment-a something necessary to it, which it couldn't be without; all this the
Fairies revelled in, and loved her for. And once again they
looked upon him all at once, appealingly, and seemed to say, while
sorme among them nestled in her dress and fondled her, " Is this
the wifi who has betrayed your confidence!" More than once, or
twice,.)r thrice, in the long thoughtful night, they showed her to
be sitting on her favorite seat, with her bent head, her hands
clasped on her brow, her falling hair. As he had seen her last.
And when they had found her thus, they neither turned nor looked
upon him, but gathered close round her, and comforted and kissed
her; and pressed on one another to show sympathy and kindness
to her: and forgot him altogether.
Thus the night passed. The moon went down; the stars grew
pale; the cold day broke; the sun rose. The Carrier still sat,
musing, in the chimney corner. He had sat there, with his head
upon his hands, all night. All night the faithful Cricket had been
Chirp, Chirp, Chirping on the Hearth. All night he had listened
to its voice. All night, the household Fairies had been busy with
him.  All night, she had been amiable and blameless in the
Glass, except when that one shadow fell upon it.
lie rose up when it was broad day, and washed and dressed
himself. He could not go about his customary cheerful avocations; he wanted spirit for them; but it mattered the less, as it
was Tackleton's wedding day, and he had arranged to make his
rounds by proxy. He had thought to have gone merrily to




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

285

church with Dot. But such plans were at an end. It was their
own wedding day too. Ah, how little he had looked for such a
close to such a year.
The Carrier expected that Tackleton would pay him an early
visit; and he was right. He had not walked to and fro before
his own door, many minutes, when he saw the Toy Merchant
coming in his chaise along the road. As the chaise drew nearer,
he perceived that Tackleton was dressed out sprucely, for his
marriage: and had decorated his horse's head with flowers and
favors.
The horse looked much more like a bridegroom than Tackleton: whose half-closed eye was more disagreeably expressive
than ever. But the Carrier took little heed of this. His thoughts
had other occupation.
" John Peerybingle!" said Tackleton, with an air of condolence. "My good fellow, how do you find yourself this morning?"
"I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton," returned the
Carrier, shaking his head:" for I have been a good deal disturbed
in my mind. But it's over now! Can you spare me half an hour
or so, for some private talk?"
" I came on purpose," returned Tackleton, alighting. "Never
mind the horse. He'll stand quiet enough, with the reins over
this post, if you'll give him a mouthful of hay."
The Carrier having brought it from his stable and set it before
him, they turned into the house.
" You are not married before noon?" he said, " I think?"
"No," answered Tackleton. " Plenty of time. Plenty of
time."
When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy was rapping
at the Stranger's door; which was only removed from it by a
few steps. One of her very red eyes (for Tilly had been crying




ï~~286

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

all night long, because her mistress cried) was at the keynole;
and she was knocking very loud; and seemed frightened.
" if you please, I can't make nobody hear," said Tilly, looking
round. "I hope nobody ain't gone, and been and died, if you
please!"
This philanthropic wish, Miss Slowboy emphasized with various
new raps and kicks at the door, which led to no result whatever.
"Shall I go?" said Tackleton. "It's curious."
The Carrier, who had turned his face from the door, signed to
him to go if he would.
So Tackleton went to Tilly Slowboy's relief; and he too kicked
and knocked; and he too failed to get the least reply. But he
thought of trying the handle of the door; and as it opened easily,
he peeped in, looked in, went in; and soon came running out
again.
"John Peerybingle," said Tackleton, in his ear. "I hope
there has been nothing-nothing rash in the night."
The Carrier turned upon him quickly.
"Because he's gone!" said Tackleton; "and the window's
open. I don't see any marks-to be sure it's almost on a level
with the garden: but I was afraid there might have been somesome scuffle. Eh?"
HIe nearly shut up the expressive eye, altogether, he looked at
him so hard. And he gave his eye, and his face, and his whole
person, a sharp twist. As if he would have screwed the truth
out of him.
" Make yourself easy," said the Carrier. "He went into that
room last night, without harm in word or deed from me; and no
one has entered it since. He is away of his own free will. I'd
go out gladly at that door, and beg my bread from house to house,
for life, if I could so change the past that he had never come.
But he has come and gone. And I have done with him!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

287! Oh!-well, I think he has got off pretty easily," said Tackleton, taking a chair.
The sneer was lost upon the Carrier, who sat down too: and
shaded his face with his hand, for some little time, before proceeding.
"You showed me last night," he said, at length, "my wife;
my wife that I love; secretly-"
"And tenderly," insinuated Tackleton.
"Conniving at that man's disguise, and giving him opportumnities
of meeting her alone. I think there's no sight I wouldn't have
rather seen than that. I think there's no man in the world I
wouldn't have rather had to show it me."
"I confess to having had my suspicions always," said Tackleton. " And that has made me objectionable here, I know."
"But as you did show it me," pursued the Carrier, not minding him; "and as you saw her, my wife; my wife that I love"
-his voice, and eye, and hand, grew steadier and firmer as he
repeated these words: evidently in pursuance of a steadfast purpose-" as you saw her at this disadvantage, it is right and just
that you should also see with my eyes, and look into my breast,
and know what my mind is, upon the subject. For it's settled,"
said the Carrier, regarding him attentively. " And nothing can
shake it now."
Tackleton muttered a few general words of assent, about its
being necessary to vindicate something or other; but he was
overawed by the manner of his companion. Plain and unpolished
as it was, it had a something dignified and noble in it, which nothing but the soul of generous Honor dwelling in the man could
have imparted.
" I am a plain, rough man," pursued the Carrier, " with very
little to recommend me. I am not a clever man, as you very well
know. I am not a young man. I loved my little Dot, because I
had seen her grow up, from a child, in her father's house; be.




ï~~288

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

cause I lnew how precious she was; because she had been my
Life, for years and years. There's many men I can't compare
with, who never could have loved my little Dot like me, I
think!"
He paused, and softly beat the ground a short time with his
foot, before resuming
" I often thought that though I wasn't good enough for her, I
should make her a kind husband, and perhaps know her value
better than another; and in this way I reconciled it to myself,
and came to think it might be possible that we should be married.
And in the end, it came about, and we were married."
"Hah!" said Tackleton, with a significant shake of his head.
" I had studied myself; I had had experience of myself; I
knew how much I loved her, and how happy 1 should be,"
pursued the Carrier. "But I had not-I feel it now-sufficiently
considered her."
"To be sure," said Tackleton. "Giddiness, frivolity, fickle.
ness, love of admiration! Not considered! All left out of sight.
Hah!"
"You had best not interrupt me," said the Carrier, with some
sternness, "till you understand me; and you're wide of doing so.
If, yesterday, I'd have struck that man down at a blow, who
dared to breathe a word against her; to-day I'd set my foot upon
his face, if he was my brother!"
The Toy Merchant gazed at him in astonishment. He went
on in a softer tone:
"Did I consider," said the Carrier, "that I took her; at her
age, and with her beauty; from her young companions, and the
many scenes of which she was the ornament; in which she was
the brightest little star that ever shone; to shut her up from day
to day in my dull house, and keep my tedious company? Did I
consider how little suited I was to her sprightly humor, and how
wearisome a plodding man like me must be, to one of her quick




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

289

spirit? Did I consider that it was no merit min me, or claim in
me, that I loved her, whom everybody must who knew her?
Never. I took advantage of her hopeful nature and her cheerful
disposition; and I married her. I wish I never had! For her
sake; not for mine!"
The Toy Merchant gazed at him, without winking. Even the
half-shut eye was open now.
"Heaven bless her!" said the Carrier, " for the cheerfiul constancy with which she has tried to keep the knowledge of this
from me! And [leaven help me, that, in my slow mind, I have
not found it out before! Poor child! Poor Dot! I not to find
it out, who have seen her eyes fill with tears, when such a marriage as our own was spoken of! I, who have seen the secret
trembling on her lips a hundred times, and never suspected it, till
last night! Poor girl! That I could ever hope she would be
fond of me! That I could ever believe she was!"
" She made a show of it," said Tackleton. " She made such a
show it, that, to tell you the truth, it was the origin of my misgivings."
And here he asserted the superiority of May Fielding, who certainly made no sort of show of being fond of him.
"She has tried," said the poor Carrier, with greater emotion
than he had exhibited yet; "I only now begin to know how hard
she has tried; to be my dutiful and zealous wife. How good she
has been; how much she has done; how brave and strong a heart
she has; let the happiness I have known under this roof beat witness! It will be some help and comfort to me, when I am here
alone."
" Here alone?" said Tackleton. " O! Then you do mean to
take some notice of this?"
" I mean," returned the Carrier, "to do her the greatest kindness, and make her the best reparation, in my power. I can

18




ï~~290

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

release her from the daily pain of an unequal marriage, and the
struggle to conceal it. She shall be as free as I can render her."
"Make her reparation!" exclaimed Tackleton, twisting and
turning his great ears with his hands. " There must be something wrong here. You didn't say that, of course."
The Carrier set his grip upon the collar of the Toy Merchant,
and shook him like a reed.
" Listen to me!" he said. "And take care that you hear me
right. Listen to me. Do I speak plainly?"
"Very plainly indeed," answered Tackleton.
"As if I meant it?"
"Very much as if you meant it."
" I sat upon that hearth, last night, all night," exclaimed the
Carrier. "On the spot where she has often sat beside me, with
her sweet face looking into mine. I called up her whole life, day
by day; I had her dear self, in its every passage, in review before me. And upon my soul she is innocent, if there is One to
judge the innocent and guilty!"
Staunch Cricket on the Hearth! Loyal household Fairies!
' Passion and distrust have left me!" said the Carrier; " and
nothing but my grief remains. In an unhappy moment, some
old lover, better suited to her tastes and years than I; forsaken,
perhaps, for me, against her will, returned. In an unhappy moment: taken by surprise, and wanting time to think of what she
did: she made herself a party to his treachery, by concealing it.
Last night she saw him, in the interview we witnesse. It was
wrong. But otherwise than this, she is innocent if there is
Truth on earth!"
"If that is your opinion-" Tackleton began.
" So, let her go!" pursued the Carrier. " Go, with my blessing for the many happy hours she has given me, and my forgiveness for any pang she has caused me. Let her go, and have the
peace of mind I wish her! She'll never hate me. She'll learn




ï~~CRICKET ON THE IHE RTH.

291

to like me better, when I'm not a drag upon her, and she wears
the chain I have riveted, more lightly. This is the day on which
I took her, with so little thought for her enjoyment, from her
home. To-day she shall return to it; and I will trouble her no
more. Her father and mother will be here to-day-we had made
a little plan for keeping it together-and they shall take her
home. I can trust her, there, or anywhere. She leaves me
without blame, and she will live so, I am sure. If I should die
-I may perhaps while she is still young; I have lost some courage in a few hours-she 'll find that I remembered her, and loved
her to the last! This is the end of what you showed me. Now,
it's over."
" Oh no, John, not over. Do not say it 's over yet! Not quite
yet. I have heard your noble words. I could not steal away,
pretending to be ignorant of what has affected me with such deep
gratitude. Do not say it's over, till the clock has struck again!"
She had entered shortly after Tackleton; and had remained
there. She never looked at Tackleton, but fixed her eyes upon
her husband. But she kept away from him, setting as wide a
space as possible between them; and though she spoke with most
impassioned earnestness, she went no nearer to him even then.
How different in this from her old self!
"No hand can make the clock which will strike again for me
the hours that are gone," replied the Carrier, with a faint smile.
"But let it be so, if you will, my dear. It will strike soon. It's
of little matter what we say. I 'd try to please you in a harder
case than that."
" Well!" muttered Tackleton. "I must be off; for when the
clock strikes again, it 'll1 be necessary for me to be upon my way
to church. Good morning, John Peerybingle. I'm sorry to be
deprived of the pleasure of your company. Sorry for the loss
and the occasion of it too!"




ï~~292

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"I have spoken plainly?" said the Carrier, accompanying him
to the door.
" Oh, quite!"
"And you 'll remember what I have said?"
"Why, if you compel me to make the observation," said
Tackleton; previously taking the precaution of getting into his
chaise; "I must say that it was so very unexpected, that I 'm
far from being likely to forget it."
" The better for us both," returned the Carrier. "Good bye.
I give you joy!"
"I wish I could give it to you," said Tackleton. "As I can't;
thank 'ee. Between ourselves (as I told you before, eh?) I
don't much think I shall have the less joy in my married life,
because May has n't been too officious about me, and too demonstrative. Good bye! Take care of yourself!"
The Carrier stood looking after him until he was smaller in the
distance than his horse's flowers and favors near at hand; and
then, with a deep sigh, went strolling like a restless, broken man,
among some neighboring elms; unwilling to return until the
clock was on the eve of striking.
His little wife being left alone, sobbed piteously; but often
dried her eyes and checked herself, to say how good he was,
how excellent he was! and once or twice she laughed; so heartily, triumphantly, and incoherently (still crying all the time),
that Tilly was quite horrified.
" Ow, if you please, don't!" said Tilly. "It 's enough to
dead and bury the Baby, so it is, if you please."
" Will you bring him sometimes, to see his father, Tilly,"
inquired her mistress; drying her eyes; " when I can 't live
here, and have gone to my old home?"
" Ow, if you please, don't!" cried Tilly, throwing back her
head, and bursting out into a howl; she looked at the moment
uncommonly like Boxer; "Ow, if you please, don't! Ow, wha




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

293*

has everybody gone and been and done with everybody, making
everybody else so wretched! Ow-w-w-w!"
The soft-hearted Slowboy trailed off at this juncture, into such
a deplorable howl: the more tremendous from its long suppression; that she must infallibly have awakened the Baby, and frightened him into something serious (probably convulsions), if her
eyes had not encountered Caleb Plummer, leading in his daughter. This spectacle restoring her to a sense of the proprieties,
she stood for some few moments silent, with her mouth wide open:
and then, posting off to the bed on which the Baby lay asleep,
danced in a Weird, Saint Vitus manner on the floor, and at the same
time rummaged with her face and head among the bedclothes;
apparently deriving much relief from those extraordinary operations.
"Mary!" said Bertha. "Not at the marriage!"
"I told her you would not be there, Mum," whispered Caleb.
"I heard as much last night. But bless you," said the little man,
taking her tenderly by both hands, " I don't care for what they
say; I don't believe them. There ain't much of me, but that
little should be torn to pieces sooner than I'd trust a word against
you!"
He put his arms about her neck and hugged her, as a child
might have hugged one of his own dolls.
"Bertha couldn't stay at home this morning," said Caleb.
"She was afraid, I know, to hear the Bells ring: and couldn't
trust herself to be so near them on their wedding-day. So we
started in good time, and came here. I have been thinking of
what I have done," said Caleb, after a moment's pause; "I have
been blaming myself till I hardly knew what to do or where to
turn, for the distress of mind I have caused her; and I've come
to the conclusion that I'd better, if you'll stay with me, Mum, the
while, tell her the truth. You'll stay with me the while?" he
inquired, trembling from head to foot.  " I don't know what




ï~~294

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

effect it may have upon her; I don't know what she'll think of
me; I don't know that she'll ever care for her poor father afterwards. But it's best for her that she should be undeceived; and
I must bear the consequences as I deserve!"
" Mary," said Bertha, " where is your hand! Ah! Here it
is; here it is!" pressing it to her lips, with a smile, and
drawing it through her arm. "I heard them speaking softly
among themselves, last night, of some blame against you. They
were wrong."
The Carrier's Wife was silent. Caleb answered for her.
" They were wrong," he said.
"I knew it!" cried Bertha, proudly. " I told them so. I
scorned to hear a word! Blame her with just  e!" she pressed
the hand between her own, and the soft cheek against her face.
" No! I am not so Blind as that."
Her father went on one side of her, while Dot remained upon
the other: holding her hand.
" I know you all," said Bertha, "better than you think. But
none so well as her. Not even you, father. There is nothing
half so real and so true about me, as she is. If I could be restored
to sight this instant, and not a word were spoken, I could choose
her from a crowd! My Sister!"
" Bertha, my dear!" said Caleb, " I have something on my
mind I want to tell you, while we three are alone. Hear me
kindly! I have a confession to make to you, my Darling."
"A confession, father?"
"I have wandered from the Truth and lost myself, my child,"
said Caleb, with a pitiable expression in his bewildered face. " I
have wandered from the Truth, intending to be kind to you; and
have been cruel."
She turned her wonder-stricken face towards him, and repeated
" Cruel!"




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

295

" He accuses himself too strongly, Bertha," said Dot. "You'll
say so, presently. You'll be the first to tell him so."
"He cruel to me!" cried Bertha, with a smile of incredulity.
"Not meaning it, my child," said Caleb. " But I have been;
though I never suspected it 'till yesterday.  My dear Blind
Daughter, hear me and forgive me! The world you live in,
heart of mine, doesn't exist as I have represented it. The eyes
you have trusted in, have been false to you."
She turned her wonder-stricken face towards him still; but
drew back, and clung closer to her friend.
"Your road in life was rough, my poor one," said Caleb, "and
I meant to smoothe it for you. I have altered objects, changed
the characters of people, invented many things that never have
been, to make you happier. I have had concealments from you,
put deceptions on you, God forgive me! and surrounded you with
fancies."
" But living people are not fancies?" she said hurriedly, and
turning very pale, and still retiring from him. " You can't
change them."
"I have done so, Bertha," pleaded Caleb. "There is one person that you know, my Dove-"
" Oh, father! why do you say, I know?" she answered, in a
tone of keen reproach. " What and whom do I know! I, who
have no leader! I, so miserably blind!"
In the anguish of her heart, she stretched out her hands, as if
she were groping her way; then spread them, in a manner most
forlorn and sad, upon her face.
" The marriage that takes place to-day," said Caleb, "is with
a stern, sordid, grinding man. A hard master to you and me,
my dear, for many years. Ugly in his looks, and in his nature.
Cold and callous always. Unlike what I have painted him to you
in everything, my child. In everything."
" Oh,, why," cried the Blind Girl, tortured, as it seemed, al



ï~~296

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

most beyond endurance, " why did you ever do this! Why did
you ever fill my heart so full, and then come in like Death, and
tear away the objects of my love! Oh, Heaven, how blind [
am! How helpless and alone!"
Her afflicted father hung his head, and offered no reply but in
his penitence and sorrow.
She had been but a short time in this passion of regret, when
the Cricket on the Hearth, unheard by all but her, began to chirp.
Not merrily, but in a low, faint, sorrowing way. It was so
mournful, that her tears began to flow; and when the Presence
which had been beside the Carrier all night, appeared behind
her, pointing to her father, they fell down like rain.
She heard the Cricket-voice more plainly soon; and was conscious, through her blindness, of the Presence hovering about her
father.
"Mary," said the Blind Girl, "tell me what my home is.
What it truly is."
" It is a poor place, Bertha; very poor and bare indeed. The
house will scarcely keep out wind and rain another winter. It is
as roughly shielded from the weather, Bertha," Dot continuel,
in a low, clear voice, " as your poor father in his sackcloth
coat."
The Blind Girl, greatly agitated, rose, and led the Carrier's
little wife aside.
" Those presents that I took such care of; that came almost
at my wish, and were so dearly welcome to me," she said,
trembling; " where did they come from? Did you send them?"
SNo."
"Who, then?"
Dot saw she knew, already; and was silent. The Blind Girl
spread her hands before her face again. But in quite another
manner now.
"Dear Mary, a moment. One moment! More this way.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

297

Speak softly to me. You are true, I know. You'd nriot deceive
me, now; would you?"
" No, Bertha, indeed!"
"No, I am sure you would not. You have too much pity for
me. Mary, look across the room to where we were just now; to
where my father is-my father, so compassionate and loving to
me-and tell me what you see."
" I see," said Dot, who understood her well, " an old man sitting in a chair, and leaning sorrowfully on the back, with his
face resting on his hand. As if his child should comfort him,
Bertha."
"Yes, yes. She will. Go on."
"He is an old man, worn with care and work. He is a spare,
dejected, thoughtful, grey-haired man. I see him now, despondent and bowed down, and striving against nothing. But, Bertha,
I have seen him many times before; and striving hard in many
ways for one great sacred object. And I honor his grey head, and
bless him!"
The Blind Girl broke away from her; and throwing herself
upon her knees before him, took the grey head to her breast.
"It is my sight restored. It is my sight!" she cried. "I have
been blind, and now my eyes are open. I never knew him! To
think I might have died, and never truly seen the father, who has
been so loving to me!"
There were no words for Caleb's emotion.
" There is not a gallant figure on this earth," exclaimed the
Blind Girl, holding him in her embrace, " that I would love so
dearly, and would cherish so devotedly, as this! The greyer,
aiLd mor, wrn, the dearer, father! Never let them say I am
blind again. The re's not a furrow in his face, there's not a hair
upon his head, that shall be forgotten in my prayer and thanks to
heaven!"
Caleb managed to articulate " My Bertha!"




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CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"And in my blindness, I believed him," said the girl, caressing him with tears of exquisite affection, "to be so different!
And having him beside me, day by day, so mindful of me always,
never dreamed of this!"
" The fresh smart father in the blue coat, Bertha," said poor
Caleb. "He's gone!"
" Nothing is gone," she answered.  "Dearest father, no!
Everything is here-in you. The father that I loved so well;
the father that I never loved enough, and never knew; the benefactor whom I first began to reverence and love, because he had
such sympathy for me. All are here in you. Nothing is dead
to me. The Soul of all that was most dear to me is here-here,
with the worn face, and the grey head. And I am NOT blind,
father, any longer!"
Dot's whole attention had been concentrated, during this discourse, upon the father and daughter; but looking, now, towards
the little Haymaker in the Moorish meadow, she saw that the
clock was within a few minutes of striking; and fell, immediately, into a nervous and excited state.
"Father," said Bertha, hesitating. " Mary."
"Yes, my dear," returned Caleb. "Here she is."
"There is no change in her. You never told me anything of
her that was not true."
"I should have done it, my dear, I am afraid," returned Ca.
leb, " if I could have made her better than she was. But I must
have changed her for the worse, if I had changed her at all.
Nothing could improve her, Bertha."
Confident as the blind girl had been when she asked the question, her delight and pride in the reply, and her renewed embrace
of Dot, were charming to behold.
" More changes than you think for, may happen, though, my
dear," said Dot.  'Changes for the better, I mean; changes for
great joy to some of us. You mustn't let them startle you,oc




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

2  9

much, if any such should ever happen, and affect you. Are
those wheels upon the road? You've a quick ear, Bertha. Are
they wheels?"
" Yes. Comrning very fast."
"I- I- I know you have a quick ear," said Dot, placing her
hand upon her heart, and evidently talking on, as fast as she
could, to hide its palpitating state, " because I have noticed it
often, and because you were so quick to find out that strange step
last night. Though why you should have said, as I very well
recollect you did say, Bertha, "whose step is that!" and why you
should have taken any greater observation of it than of any other
step, I don't know. Though as I said just now, there are great
changes in the world: great changes: and we can't do better than
prepare ourselves to be surprised at hardly anything."
Caleb wondered what this meant; perceiving that she spoke tc
him, no less than to his daughter. He saw her, with astonishment, so fluttered and distressed that she could scarcely breathe;
and holding to a chair, to save herself from falling.
"They are wheels indeed!" she panted, " coming nearer
Nearer! Very close! And now you hear them stopping at the
garden-gate! And now you hear the step outside the door-the
same step, Bertha, is it not!-and now!"
She uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight; and running
up to Caleb, put her hands upon his eyes, as a young man rushed
into the room, and flinging away his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them
"Is it over?" cried Dot.
"Yes.
"Happily over?"
"Yes!"
SDo you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear
the like of it before?" cried Dot.




ï~~800

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"If my boy in the Golden South Americas was alive "-said
Caleb, trembling.
" He is alive!" shrieked Dct, removing her hands from his eyes
and clapping them in ecstasy; "look at him! See where he
stands before you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son
Your own dear living, loving brother, Bertha!"
All honor to the little creature for her transports! All honor
to her tears and laughter, when the three were locked in one
another's arms! All honor to the heartiness with which she
met the sunburnt Sailor-fellow, with his dark streaming hair, half
way and never turned her rosy little mouth aside, but suffered
him to kiss it, freely, and to press her to his bounding heart!
And honor to the Cuckoo too-why not!-for bursting out of
the trap-door in the Moorish Palace like a housebreaker, and hiccoughing twelve times on the assembled company, as if he had
got drunk for joy!
The Carrier, entering, started back: and well he might: to
find himself in such good company.
"Look, John!" said Caleb, exultingly, " look here! My own
boy from the Golden South Americas! My own son! Him that
you fitted out, and sent away yourself; him that you were
always such a friend to!"
The Carrier advanced to seize him by the hand; but, recoiling, as some feature in his face awakened a remembrance of the
Deaf Man in the Cart, said:
"Edward! was it you?"
" Now tell him all!" cried Dot. "Tell him all, Edward; and
don't spare me, for nothing shall make me spare myself in his
eyes, ever again."
"I was the man," said Edward.
" And could you steal, disguised, into the house of your ald
friend?" rejoined the Carrier. "There was a frank boy once--




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

301

how many years is it, Caleb, since we heard that he was dead,
and had it proved, we thought?-~ ho never would have done
that."
"1 There was a generous friend of mine, once: more a father
to me than a friend:" said Edward, " who never would have
judged me, or any other man, unheard. You were he. So I
am certain you will hear me now."
The Carrier, with a troubled glance at Dot, who still kept far
away from him, replied, " Well! that's but fair  I will."
" You must know that when I left here, a boy," said Edward,
"I was in love: and my love was returned. She was a very
young girl, who perhaps (you may tell me) didn't know her own
mind. But I knew mine; and I had a passion for her."
"You had!" exclaimed the Carrier. "You!"
"Indeed, I had," returned the other. "And she returned it.
I have ever since believed she did; and now I am sure she did."
" Heaven help me!" said the Carrier.  " This is worse
than all."
" Constant to her," said Edward, " and returning full of hope,
after many hardships and perils, to redeem my part of our old
contract, I heard, twenty miles away, that she was false to me;
that she had forgotten me; and had bestowed herself upon another and a richer man. I had no mind to reproach her; but I
wished to see her, and to prove beyond dispute that this was true.
I hoped she might have been forced into it, against her own desire
and recollection. It would be small comfort, but it would be
some, I thought; and on I came. That I might have the truth,
the real truth; observing freely for myself, and judging for myself, without obstruction on the one hand, or presenting my own
influence (if I had any) before her, on the other; I dressed my.
self unlike myself-you know how; and waited on the roadyou know where. You had no si spicion of me; neither had



ï~~802

CHRISTMAS  STORIES.

nad she," pointing to Dot, " until I whispered in her ear at that
fireside, and she so nearly betrayed me."
" But when she knew that Edward was alive, and had come
back," sobbed Dot, now speaking for herself, as she had burned
to do, all through this narrative; " and when she knew his purpose, she advised him by all means to keep his secret close; for
his old friend John Peerybingle was much too open in his nature,
and too clumsy in all artifice-being a clumsy man in general,"
said Dot, half laughing and half crying-" to keep it for him.
And when she-that's me, John," sobbed the little woman-" told
him all, and how his sweetheart had believed him to be dead;
and how she had at last been over-persuaded by her mother into
a marriage which the silly, dear old thing called advantageous;
and when she-that's me again, John-told him they were not
yet married (though close upon it,) and that it would be nothing
but a sacrifice if it went on, for there was no love on her side;
and when he went nearly mad with joy to hear it; then shethat's me again-said she would go between them, as she had
often done before in old times, John, and would sound his sweetheart and be sure that what she-me again, John,-said and
thought was right. And it was right, John! And they were
brought together, John! And they were married, John, an hour
ago! And here's the Bride! And Gruff and Tackleton may
die a bachelor! And I'm a happy little woman, May, God bless
you!"
She was an irresistible little woman, if that be anything to the
purpose; and never so completely irresistible as in her present
transports. There never were congratulations so endearing and
delicious, as those she lavished on herself and on the Bride.
Amid the tumult of emotions in his breast, the honest Carrier
had stood confounded. Flying, now, towards her, Dot stretched
out her hand to stop him, and retreated as before.
"No, John, no! Hear all! Don't love me any more, John,




ï~~CRICKET ON TIHE HEARTH.

803

till you 've heard every word I have to say. It was wrong to
have a secret from you, John. I 'm very sorry. I didn't think
it any harm, till I came and sat down by you on the little stool
last night; but when I knew by what was written in your face,
that you had seen me walking in the gallery with Edward; and
knew what you thought; I felt how giddy and how wrong it was.
But oh, dear John, how could you, could you, think so!"
Little woman, how she sobbed again! John Peerybingle would
have caught her in his arms. But no; she wouldn't let him.
"Don't love me yet, please, John! Not for a long time yet!
When I was sad about this intended marriage, dear, it was because I remembered May and Edward such young lovers; and
knew that her heart was far away from Tackleton. You believe
that, now, don't you, John?"
John was going to make another rush at this appeal; but she
stopped him again.
" No; keep there, please, John! When I laugh at you, as I
sometimes do, John; and call you clumsy, and a dear old goose,
and names of that sort, it's because I love you, John, so well;
and take such pleasure in your ways; and wouldn't see you
altered in the least respect to have you made a king to-morrow."
"Hooroar! " said Caleb with unusual vigor. " My opinion!"
" And when I 'spoke of people being middle-aged, and steady,
John, and pretend that we are a humdrum couple, going on in a
jog-trot sort of way, it's only because I'm such a silly little thing,
John, that I like, sometimes, to act a kind of Play with Baby,
and all that; and make believe."
She saw that he was coming; and stopped him again. But
she was very nearly too late.
" No, don't love me for another minute or two, if you please,
John! What I want most to tell you, I have kept to the last.
My dear, good, generous John; when we were talking the other
night about the Cricket, I had it on my lips to say, that at first I




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CHRISTMAS STORIES.

did not love you quite so dearly as I do now; that when I first
came home here, I was half afraid I mightn't learn to love you
every bit as well as I hoped and prayed I might-being so very
young, John. But, dear John, every day and hour, I loved you
more and more. And if I could have loved you better than I
do, the noble words I heard you say this morning, would have
made me. But I can't.-All the affection that I had (it was a
great deal, John) 1 gave you, as you well deserve, long, long,
ago, and I have no more left to give. Now, my dear husband,
take me to your heart again! That's my home, John; and
never, never think of sending me to any other."
You never will derive so much delight from seeing a glorious
little woman in the arms of a third party, as you would have felt
if you had seen Dot run into the Carrier's embrace. It was the
most complete, unmitigated, soul-fraught little piece of earnestness that ever you beheld in all your days.
You may be sure the Carrier was in a state of perfect rapture; and you may be sure Dot was likewise; and you may be
sure they all were, inclusive of Miss Slowboy, who cried most
copiously for joy, and, wishing to include her young charge in
the general interchange of congratulations, handed round the
baby to everybody in succession, as if it were something to drink.
But now the sound of wheels was heard again outside the door;
and somebody exclaimed that Gruff and Tackleton was coming
back. Speedily that worthy gentleman appeared, looking warm
and flustered.
" Why, what the devil's this, John Peerybingle!" said Tackleton. " There's some mistake. I appointed Mrs. Tackleton to
meet me at the church; and I'll swear I passed her on the road.
on her way here. Oh! here she is! I beg your pardon, sir; I
haven't the pleasure of knowing you; but if you can do me the
favor to spare this young lady, she has rather a particular en.
gagement this morning."




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

But I can't spare her," returned Edward. "1 I couldn't think
f it."
" What do you mean, you vagabond?" said Tackleton.
" i mean, that as I can make allowance for your being vexed,"
returned the other, with a smile, "I am as deaf to harsh discourse this morning, as I was to all discourse last night."
The look that Tackleton bestowed upon him, and the start he
gave!
"I am sorry, sir," said Edward, holding out May's left hand,
and especially the third finger, "that the young lady can't accom.
pany you to church; but as she has been there once this morning,
perhaps you will excuse her."
Tackleton looked hard at the third finger, and took a little
piece of silver-paper, apparently containing a ring, from his
waistcoat pocket.
" Miss Slowboy," said Tackleton. " Will you have the kindness to throw that in the fire? Thank'ee."
" It was a previous engagement-quite an old engagementthat prevented my wife from keeping her appointment with you,
1 assure you," said Edward.
" Mr. Tackleton will do me the justice to acknowledge that I
revealed it to him faithfully, and that I told him, many times, I
never could forget it," said May, blushing.
"Oh, certainly!" said Tackleton. " Oh to be sure. Oh it's
all right. It's quite correct. Mrs. Edward Plummer, I infer?"
" That 's the name," returned the bridegroom.
"Ah! I shouldn't have known you, sir," said Tackleton,
scrutinizing his face narrowly, and making a low bow. "I give
you joy, sir!"
"Thank'ee."
"Mrs. Peerybingle," said Tackleton, turning suddenly to
where she stood with her husband; "I am sorry. You haven't
done me a very great kindness, but upon my life I am sorry.
19




ï~~806

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

You are better than I thought you. John Peerybingle, I am
sorry. You understand me; that's enough. It's quite correct,
ladies and gentlemen all, and perfectly satisfactory.  Good
morning!"
With these words he carried it off, and carried himself off too:
merely stopping at the door, to take the flowers and favors from
his horse's head, and to kick that animal once in the ribs, as a
means of informing him that there was a screw loose in his arrangements.
Of course it became a serious duty now, to make such a day of
it, as should mark these events for a high Feast and Festival in
the Peerybingle Calendar for evermore. Accordingly Dot went
to work to produce such an entertainment, as should reflect un.
dying honor on the house and every one concerned; and in a
very short space of time, she was up to her dimpled elbows in
flour, and whitening the Carrier's coat, every time he came near
her, by stopping him to give him a kiss. That good fellow
washed the greens, and peeled the turnips, and broke the plates,
and upset iron pots full of cold water on the fire, and made himself
useful in all sorts of ways; while a couple of professional assistants, hastily called in from somewhere in the neighborhood, as on
a point of life or death, ran against each other in all the doorways
and round all the corners: and everybody tumbled over Tilly
Slowboy and the Baby, everywhere. Tilly never came out in
such force before. Her ubiquity was the theme of general admiration. She was a stumbling-block in the passage at five and
twenty minutes past two; a man-trap in the kitchen at half-past
two precisely; and a pit-fall in the garret at five and twenty
minutes to three. The Baby's head was, as it were, a test and
touchstone for every description of matter, animal, vegetable, and
mineral. Nothing was in use that day that didn't come, at some
time or other, into close acquaintance with it.
Then, there was a great expedition set on foot to go and find




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

807

out Mrs. Fielding; and to be dismally penitent to that ex cellent
gentlewoman; and to bring her back, by force if needful, to be
happy and forgiving. And when the expedition first discovered
her, she would listen to no terms at all, but said, an unspeakable
number of times, that ever she should have lived to see the day!
and could not be got to say anything else, except " Now carry
me to the grave;" which seemed absurd, on account of her not
being dead, or anything at all like it. After a time, she lapsed
into a state of dreadful calmness, and observed, that when that
unfortunate train of circumstances had occurred in the Indigo
Trade, she had foreseen that she would be exposed, during her
whole life, to every species of insult and contumely; and that she
was glad to find it was the case; and begged they wouldn't trouble
themselves about her,-for what was she? oh, dear! a nobody!but would forget thatsuch a being lived, and would take their course
in life without her. From this bitterly sarcastic mood, she
passed into an angry one, in which she gave vent to the remarkable expression that the worm would turn if trodden on: and
after that, she yielded to a soft regret, and said, if they had
only given her their confidence, what might she not have had it
in her power to suggest! Taking advantage of this crisis in her
feelings, the expedition embraced her; and she very soon had
her gloves on, and was on her way to John Peerybingle's in a
state of unimpeachable gentility; with a paper parcel at her side
containing a cap of state, almost as tall, and quite as stiff as a
Mitre.
Then there were Dot's father and mother to come, in another
little chaise; and they were behind their time; and fears were
entertained; and there was much looking for them down the road;
and Mrs. Fielding always would look in the wrong and morally
impossible direction; and being apprised thereof, hoped she might
have liberty of looking where she pleased. At last they came,
a chubby little couple, jogging along in a snug and comfortab




ï~~308

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

little way that quite belonged to the Dot family; and Dot and
her mother, side by side, were wonderful to see. They were so
like each other
Then Dot's mother had to renew her acquaintance with May's
mother; and May's mother always stood on her gentility; and
Dot's mother never stood on anything but her active little feet.
And old Dot; so to call Dot's father; I forgot it wasn't his right
name, but never mind: took liberties, and shook hands at first
sight, and seemed to think a cap but so much starch and muslin,
and didn't defer himself at all to the Indigo trade, but said there
was no help for it now; and in Mrs. Fielding's summing up, was
a good-natured kind of man-but coarse, my dear.
I wouldn't have missed Dot, doing the honors in her weddinggown; my benison on her bright face! for any money. No! nor
the good Carrier, so jovial and so ruddy, at the bottom of the
table. Nor the brown, fresh sailor-fellow, and his handsome
wife. Nor any one among them. To have missed the dinner
would have been to miss as jolly and as stout a meal as a man
need eat; and to have missed the overflowing cups in which they
drank the Wedding Day, would have been the greatest miss
of all.
After dinner, Caleb sang the song about the Sparkling bowl!
As I'm a living man: hoping to keep so, for a year or two: he
sang it through.
And, by-the-by, a most unlooked-for incident occurred, just as
he finished the last verse.
There was a tap at the door; and a man came staggering in,
without saying with your leave, or by your leave, with something heavy on his head. Setting this down in the middle of
the table, symmetrically in the centre of the nuts and apples, he
said:
" Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and as he hasn't got no use for
the cake himself, p'raps you'll eat it."




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

309

And with those words, he walked off.
There was some surprise among the company, as you may
imagine. Mrs. Fielding, being a lady of infinite discernment.
suggested that the cake was poisoned; and related a narrative of
a cake, which, within her knowledge, had turned a seminary for
young ladies blue. But she was overruled by acclamations, and
the cake was cut by May, with much ceremony and rejoicing.
I don't think any one had tasted it, when there came another
tap at the door; and the same man appeared again, having under
his arm a vast brown paper parcel.
"Mr. Tackleton's compliments, and he's sent a few toys for
the Babby. They ain't ugly."
After the delivery of which expressions, he retired again.
The whole party would have experienced great difficulty in
finding words for their astonishment, even if they had had ample
time to seek them. But they had none at all; for the messenger
had scarcely shut the door behind him, when there came another
tap, and Tackleton himself walked in.
"Mrs. Peerybingle!" said the Toy Merchant, hat in hand.
"I'm sorry. I'm more sorry than I was this morning. I have
had time to think of it. John Peerybingle! I'm sour by disposition; but I can't help being sweetened, more or less, by coming
face to face with such a man as you. Caleb! This unconscious
little nurse gave me a broken hint last night, of which I have
found the thread. I blush to think how easily I might have bound
you and your daughter to me; and what a miserable idiot I was,
when I took her for one! Friends, one and all, my house is very
lonely to-night, I have not so much as a Cricket on my Hearth.
r have scared them all away. Be gracious to me; let me join
this happy party!"
He was at home in five minutes. You never saw such a fellow. What had he been doing with himself all his life, never to
have known, before, his great capacity of being jovial! Or what




ï~~810

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

had the Fairies been doing with him, to have effected such a
change!
"John! you won't send me home this evening; will you?'
whispered Dot.
He had been very near it though!
There wanted but one living creature to make the party complete; and, in the twinkling of an eye, there he was: very
thirsty with hard running, and engaged in hopeless endeavors to
squeeze his head into a narrow pitcher. He had gone with the
cart to its journey's end, very much disgusted with the absence
of his master, and stupendously rebellious to the Deputy. After
lingering about the stable for some little time, vainly attempting
to incite the old horse to the mutinous act of returning on his own
account, he had walked into the tap.room and laid himself down
before the fire. But suddenly yielding to the conviction that the
Deputy was a humbug, and must be abandoned, he had got up
again, turned tail and come home.
There was a dance in the evening. With which general mention of that recreation, I should have left it alone, if I had not
some reason to suppose that it was quite an original dance, and
one of a most uncommon figure. It was formed in an odd way;
in this way.
Edward, that sailor fellow-a good free dashing sort of fellow
he was-had been telling them various marvels concerning par.
rots, and mines, and Mexicans, and gold dust, when all at once
he took it into his head to jump up from his seat and propose a
dance; for Bertha's harp was there, and she had such a hand
upon it as you seldom hear. Dot (sly little piece of affectation
when she chose) said her dancing days were over; 1 think T)ecause the Carrier was smoking his pipe, and she liked sitting by
him best. Mrs. Fielding had no choice, of course, but to say
her dancing days were over, after that; and everybody said the
same, except May: May was ready.




ï~~CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.

311

So, May and Edward get up, amid great applause, to dance
alone; and Bertha plays her liveliest tune. Well! if you'll believe me, they have not been dancing five minutes, when suddenly the Carrier flings his pipe away, takes Dot round the waist,
dashes out into the room, and starts off with her, toe and heel,
quite wonderfully. Tackleton no sooner sees this, than he skims
across to Mrs. Fielding, takes her round the waist, and follows
suit. Old Dot no sooner sees this, than up he is, all alive, whisks
off Mrs. Dot into the middle of the dance, and he is the foremost
there. Caleb no sooner sees this, than he clutches Tilly Slowboy
by both hands and goes off at score; Miss Slowboy, firm in the
belief that diving hotly in among the other couples, and effecting
any number of concussions with them, is your only principle of
footing it.
Hark! how the Cricket joins the music with its Chirp, Chirp,
Chirp; and how the kettle hums.
But what is tnis? Even as I listen to them, blithely, and turn
towards Dot, for one last glimpse of a little figure very pleasant
to me, she and the rest have vanished into air, and I am left
alone. A Cricket sings upon the Hearth; a broken child's-tey
lies upon the ground; and nothing else remains.




ï~~


ï~~THlE BATTLE OF LIFE.
a ao.-Saa




ï~~


ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
PART THE FIRST.
ONCE upon a time, it matters little when, and in stalwart England, it matters little where, a fierce battle was fought. It was
fought upon a long summer day when the waving grass was
green. Many a wild flower, formed by the Almighty Hand to be
a perfumed goblet for the dew, felt its enameled cup fill high
with blood that day, and shrinking dropped. Many an insect
deriving its delicate color from harmless leaves and herbs, was
stained anew that day by dying men, and marked its frightened
way with an unnatural track. The painted butterfly took blood
into the air upon the edges of its wings. The stream ran red.
The trodden ground became a quagmire, whence, from sullen
pools collected in the prints of human feet and horses' hoofs, the
one prevailing hue still lowered and glimmered at the sun.
Heaven keep us from a knowledge of the sights the moon beheld upon that field, when, coming up above the black line of
distant rising ground, softened and blurred at the edge by trees,
she rose into the sky and looked upon the plain, strewn with upturned faces that had once at mothers' breasts sought mothers'
eyes, or slumbered happily. Heaven keep us from a knowledge
of the secrets whispered afterward upon the tainted wind that
blew across the scene of that day's work, and that night's death
315




ï~~316

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and suffering! Many a lonely moon was bright upon the batt.cground, and many a star kept mournful watch upon it, and many
a wind from every quarter of the earth blew over it, before the
traces of the fight were worn away.
They lurked and lingered for a long time, but survived in little
things, for Nature, far above the evil passions of men, soon re
covered Her serenity, and smiled upon the guilty battle-ground as
she had done before, when it was innocent. The larks sang high
above it, the swallows skimmed and dipped and flitted to and fro,
the shadows of the flying clouds pursued each other swiftly, over
grass and corn and turnip-field and wood, and over roof and
church-spire in the nestling town among the trees, away into the
bright distance on the borders of the sky and earth, where the
red sunsets faded. Crops were sown, and grew up, and were
gathered in; the stream that had been crimsoned, turned a watermill; men whistled at the plow; gleaners and haymakers were
seen in quiet groups at work; sheep and oxen pastured; boys
whooped and called, in fields, to scare away the birds; smoke
rose from cottage chimneys; sabbath bells rang peacefully; old
people lived and died; the timid creatures of the field, and simple
flowers of the bush and garden, grew and withered in their destined terms: and all upon the fierce and bloody battle-ground,
where thousands upon thousands had been killed in the great
fight.
But there were deep green patches in the growing corn at first,
that people looked at awfully. Year after year they re-appeared;
and it was known that underneath those fertile spots heaps of
men and horses lay buried, indiscriminately, enriching the ground.
The husbandman who plowed those places shrunk from the great
worms abounding there; and the sheaves they yielded, were, for
many a long year, called the Battle Sheaves, and set apart; and
no one ever knew a Battle Sheaf to be among the last load at a
Harvest Home. For a long time, every furrow that was turned,




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

317

reveaied some fragments of the fight. For a long time, there were
wounded trees upon the battle-ground; and scraps of hacked and
broken fence and wall, where deadly struggles had been made;
and trampled parts where not a leaf or blade would grow. For
a long time, no village girl would dress her hair or bosom with
the sweetest flower from that field of death: and after many a
year had come and gone, the berries growing there, were still
believed to leave too deep a stain upon the hand that plucked
them.
The Seasons in their course, however, though they passed as
lightly as the summer clouds themselves, obliterated, in the lapse
of time, even these remains of the old conflict; and wore away
such legendary traces of it as the neighboring people carried in
their minds, until they dwindled into old wives' tales, dimly remembered round the winter fire, and waning every year. Where
the wild flowers and berries had so long remained upon the stem
untouched, gardens arose, and houses were built, and children
played at battles on the turf. The wounded trees had long ago
made Christmas logs, and blazed and roared away. The deep
green patches were no greener now than the memory of thosb
who lay in dust below. The plowshare still turned up from time
to time some rusty bits of metal, but it was hard to say what use
they had ever served, and those who found them wondered and
disputed. An old dinted corslet, and a helmet, had been hanging in the church so long, that the same weak half-blind old man
who tried in vain to make them out above the whitewashed arch,
had marveled at them as a baby. If the host slain upon the
field, could have been for a moment re-animated in the forms in
which they fell, each upon the spot that was the bed of his untimely death, gashed and ghastly soldiers would have stared in,
hundreds deep, at household door and window; and would have
risen on the hearths of quiet homes; and would have been the
garnered store of barns and granaries; and would have started




ï~~818

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

up between the cradled infant and its nurse; and would have
floated with the stream, and whirled round on the mill, and
crowded the orchard, and burdened the meadow, and piled the
rckyard high with dying men. So altered was the battle-ground,
where thousands upon thousands had been killed in the great
fight.
Nowhere more altered, perhaps, about a hundred years ago,
than in one little orchard attached to an old stone house with a
honey-suckle porch: where, on a bright autumn morning, there
were sounds of music and laughter, and where two girls danced
merrily together on the grass, while some half-dozen peasant women standing on ladders, gathering the apples from the trees,
stopped in their work to look down, and share their enjoyment.
It was a pleasant, lively, natural scene; a beautiful day, a retired spot; and the two girls, quite unconstrained and careless,
danced in the very freedom and gayety of their hearts.
If there were no such thing as display in the world, my private
opinion is, and I hope you agree with me, that we might get on
a great deal better than we do, and might be infinitely more
agreeable company than we are. It was charming to see how
these girls danced. They had no spectators but the apple pickers
on the ladders. They were very glad to please them, but they
danced to please themselves (or at least you would have supposed
so); and you could no more help admiring, than they could help
dancing. How they did dance!
Not like opera dancers. Not at all. And not like Madame
Anybody's finished pupils. Not the least. It was not quadrille
dancing, nor minuet dancing, nor even country-dance dancinig.
It was neither in the old style, nor the new style, nor the French
style, nor the English style; though it may have been, by accident, a trifle in the Spanish style, which is a free and joyous one,
I am told, deriving a delightful air of off-hand inspiration, from
the chirping little castanets. As they danced among the orchard



ï~~


ï~~MARION'S BIRTH-DAY FETE.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

819

trees, and down the groves of stems and back again, and twirled
each other lightly round and round, the influence of their airy
motion seemed to spread and spread, in the sun-lighted scene,
like an expanding circle in the water. Their streaming hair and
fluttering skirts, the elastic grass beneath their feet, the boughs
that rustled in the morning air-the flashing leaves, their speckled shadows on the soft green ground-the balmy wind that
swept along the landscape, glad to turn the distant windmill,
cheerily-every thing between the two girls, and the man and
team at plow upon the ridge of land, where they showed against
the sky as if they were the last things in the world-seemed
dancing too.
At last the younger of the dancing sisters, out of breath, and
laughing gaily, threw herself upon a bench to rest. The other
leaned against a tree hard by. The music, a wandering harp
and fiddle, left off with a flourish, as if it boasted of its freshness;
though, the truth is, it had gone at such a pace, and worked
itself to such a pitch of competition with the dancing, that it
never could have held on half a minute longer. The applepickers on the ladders raised a humn and murmur of applause,
and then, in keeping with the sound, bestirred themselves to
work again, like bees.
The more actively, perhaps, because an elderly gentleman, who
was no other than Doctor Jeddler himself-it was Doctor Jeddler's
house and orchard, you should know, and these were Doctor
Jeddler's daughters-came bustling out to see what was the
matter, and who the deuce played music on his property, before
breakfast. For he was a great philosopher, Doctor Jeddler, and
not very musical.
" Music and dancing to-day!" said the Doctor, stopping short,
and speaking to himself, " I thought they dreaded to day. But
it's a world of contradictions. Why, Grace; why, Marion!" he
added, aloud, "is the world more mad than usual this morning?"




ï~~320

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"Make some allowance for it, father, if it be," replied his
younger daughter, Marion, going close to him, and looking into
his face, "for it's somebody's birth-day."
"Somebody's birth-day, Puss," replied the Doctor. "Don't you
know it's always somebody's birth-day? Did you never hear how
many new performers enter on this-ha! ha! ha!-it's impossible
to speak gravely of it-on this preposterous and ridiculous business
called Life, every minute?"
" No, father!"
"No, not you, of course; you're a woman-almost," said the
Doctor. "By the by," and he looked into the pretty face, still
close to his, "I suppose it's your birth-day."
"No! Do you really, father?" cried his pet daughter, pursing
up her red lips to be kissed.
"There! Take my love with it," said the Doctor, imprinting
his upon them; "and many happy returns of the-the idea!---of
the day. The notion of wishing happy returns in such a farce as
this," said the doctor to himself, "is good! Ha! ha! ha!"
Doctor Jeddler was, as I have said, a great philosopher; and
the heart and mystery of his philosophy was, to look upon the
world as a gigantic practical joke: as something too absurd to be
considered seriously by any rational man. His system of belief
had been, in the beginning, part and parcel of the battle-ground
on which he lived; as you shall presently understand.
"Well! But how did you get the music!" asked the Doctor.
"Poultry-stealers, of course. Where did the minstrels come from?"
"Alfred sent the music," said his daughter Grace, adjusting a
few simple flowers in her sister's hair, with which, in her admiration of that youthful beauty, she had herself adorned it half-anhour before, and which the dancing had disarranged.
" Oh! Alfred sent the music, did he?" returned the Doctor.
"Yes. He met it coming out of the town as he was entering
early. The men are traveling on foot, and rested there last




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

821

night; and as it was Marion's birth-day, and he thought it would
please her, he sent them on, with a penciled note to me, saying
if I thought so too, they had come to serenade her."
"Ay, ay," said the Doctor, carelessly, "he always takes your
opinion."
"And my opinion being favorable," said Grace, good-humoredly; and pausing for a moment to admire the pretty head she
decorated, with her own thrown back; "and Marion being in
high spirits, and beginning to dance, I joined her; and so we
danced to Alfred's music till we were out of breath. And we
thought the music all the gayer for being sent by Alfred. Didn't
we, dear Marion?"
"Oh, I don't know, Grace. How you teaze me about Alfred."
"Teaze you by mentioning your lover!" said her sister.
"I am sure I don't much care to have him mentioned," said
the willful beauty, stripping the petals from some flowers she held,
and scattering them on the ground. "I am almost tired of hearing of him; and as to his being my lover-"
" Hush! Don't speak lightly of a true heart, which is all your
own, Marion," cried hbr sister, "even in jest. There is not a
truer heart than Alfred's in the world!"
" No-no," said Marion, raising her eyebrows with a pleasant
air of careless consideration, " perhaps not. But I don't know
that there is any great merit in that. I-I don't want him to be
so very true. I never asked him. If he expects that I-but,
dear Grace, why need we talk of him at all just now!"
It was agreeable to see the graceful figures of the blooming
sisters, twined together, lingering among the trees, conversing
thus, with earnestness opposed to lightness, yet with love responding tenderly to love. And it was curious indeed to see the
younger sister's eyes suffused with tears; and something fervently and deeply felt, breaking through the willfulness of what
she said, and striving with it painfully.
20




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

The difference between them in respect of age, could not exceed four years at most; but Grace, as often happens in such
cases, when no mother watches over both (the Doctor's wife was
dead), seemed, in her gentle care of her young sister, and in the
steadiness of her devotion to her, older than she was; and more
removed, in course of nature, from all competition with her, or
participation, otherwise than through her sympathy and true
affection, in her wayward fancies, than their ages seemed to warrant. Great character of mother, that, even in this shadow, and
faint reflection of it, purifies the heart, and raises the exalted
nature nearer to the angels!
The Doctor's reflections, as he looked after them, and heard the
purport of their discourse, were limited, at first, to certain merry
meditations on the folly of all loves and likings, and the idle imposition practiced on themselves by young people, who believed,
for a moment, that there could be any thing serious in such bubbles, and were always undeceived-always!
But the home-adoring, self-denying qualities of Grace, and her
sweet temper, so gentle and retiring, yet including so much constancy and bravery of spirit, seemed all expressed to him in the
contrast between her quiet household figure and that of his
younger and more beautiful child; and he was sorry for her sake
-sorry for them both-that life should be such a very ridiculous
business as it was.
The Doctor never dreamed of inquiring whether his children,
or either of them, helped in any way to make the scheme a
serious one. But then he was a Philosopher.
A kind and generous man by nature, he had stumbled, by
chance, over that common Philosopher's stone (much more easily
discovered than the object of the alchemist's researches), which
sometimes trips up kind and generous men, and has the fatal
roperty of turning gold to dross, and every precious thing to poor
account.




ï~~THE  BATTLE  OF' LIFE.

323

" Britain!" cried the Doctor. "Britain! Halloa!'
A small man, with an uncommonly sour and discontented face.
emerged from the house, and returned to this call the unceremnonious acknowledgment of " Now then!"
"Where's the breakfast-table?" said the Doctor.
" In the house," returned Britain.
Are you going to spread it out here, as you were told last
night?" said the Doctor. " Don't you know that there are gentlemen coming? That there's business to be done this morning,
before the coach comes by? That this is a very particular occasion?"
" I couldn't do any thing, Doctor Jeddler, till the women had
done getting in the apples, could I?" said Britain, his voice rising
with his reasoning, so that it was very loud at last.
"Well, have they done now?" returned the Doctor, looking
at his watch, and clapping his hands. " Come! make haste!
where's Clemency?"
" Here am I, Mister," said a voice from one of the ladders,
which a pair of clumsy feet descended briskly. "It's all done
now. Clear away, girls.. Every thing shall be ready for you in
half a minute, Mister."
With this she began to bustle about most vigorously; presenting, as she did so, an appearance sufficiently peculiar to justify a
word of introduction.
She was about thirty years old; and had a sufficient plump
and cheerful face, though it was twisted up into an odd expression of tightness that made it comical. But the extraordinary
homeliness of her gait and manner, worli have superseded any
face min the world. To say that she had two legs, and somebody
else's arms, and that all four limbs seemed to be out of joint,
and to start from perfectly wrong places when they were set in
motion; is to offer the mildest outline of the reality. To say that
she was perfectly content and satisfied with these arrangements,




ï~~324

CIIRIS' MAS STORIES.

and regarded them as being no business of hers, and took her
arms and legs as they came, and allowed them to dispose of
themselves just as it happened, is to render faint justice to her
equanimity. Her dress was a prodigious pair of self-willed shoes,
that never wanted to go where her feet went; blue stockings;
a printed gown of many colors, and the most hideous pattern
procurable for money; and a white apron. She always wore
short sleeves, and always had, by some accident, grazed elbows,
in which she took so lively an interest that she was continually
trying to turn them round and get impossible views of them. In
general, a little cap perched somewhere on her head; though it
was rarely to be met with in the place usually occupied on other
subjects, by that article of dress; but from head to foot she was
scrupulously clean, and maintained a kind of dislocated tidiness.
Indeed, her laudable anxiety to be tidy and compact in her own
conscience, as well as in the public eye, gave rise to one of her
most startling evolutions, which was to grasp herself sometimes
by a sort of wooden handle (part of her clothing, and familiarly
called a busk), and wrestle as it were with her garments, until
they fell into a symmetrical arrangement.
Such, in outward form and garb, was Clemency Newcome;
who was supposed to have unconsciously originated a corruption
of her own Christian name, from Clementina (but nobody knew,
for the deaf old mother, a very phenomenon of age, whom she had
supported almost from a child, was dead, and she had no other
relation); who now busied herself in preparing the table, and
who stood, at intervals, with her bare red arms crossed, rubbing
her grazed elbows with opposite hands, and staring at it very
composedly, until she suddenly remembered something else it
wanted, and jogged off to fetch it.
"Here are them two lawyers a-coming, Mister!" said Clemency,
in a tone of no very good-will.
"Aha!" cried the Doctor, advancing to the gate to meet them,




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

325

"Good-morning, good-morning. Grace, my dear! Marion! Here
are Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs. Where's Alfred?"
" He'll be back directly, father, no doubt," said Grace. " He
had so much to do this morning in his preparations for departure,
that he was up and out by daybreak. Good-morning, gentle
men."
" Ladies!" said Mr. Snitchey, " For Self and Craggs," who
bowed, " good-morning. Miss," to Marion, " I kiss your hand."
Which he did. " And I wish you-" which he might or might
not, for he didn't look, at first sight, like a gentleman troubled
with many warm outpourings of soul in behalf of other people" a hundred happy returns of this auspicious day."
" Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Doctor, thoughtfully, with his
hands in his pockets. " The great farce in a hundred acts!"
"You wouldn't, I am sure," said Mr. Snitchey, standing a small
professional blue bag against one leg of the table, " cut the great
farce short for this actress, at all events, Doctor Jeddler."
"No," returned the Doctor. " God forbid! May she live to
laugh at it, as long as she can laugh, and then say, with the
French wit, ' The farce is ended; draw the curtain.' "
" The French wit," said Mr. Snitchey, peeping sharply into his
blue bag, "was wrong, Doctor Jeddler; and your philosophy is altogether wrong, depend upon it, as I have often told you. Nothing
serious in life. What do you call law?"
" A joke," replied the Doctor.
" Did you ever go to law?" asked Mr. Snitchey, looking out of
the blue bag.
"Never," returned the Doctor.
"If you ever do," said Mr. Snitchey, " perhaps you'll alter that
opinion."
Craggs, who seemed to be represented by Snitchey, and to be
conscious of little or no separate existence or personal individuality, oflfered a remark of his own in this place. It involved the




ï~~826

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

only idea of which he did not stand seized and possessed in equai
moieties with Snitchey; but he had some partners in it among
the wise men of the world.
"It's made a great deal too easy," said Mr. Craggs.
"Law is?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes," said Mr. Craggs, "every thing is. Every thing appears
to me to be made too easy, nowadays. It's the vice of these
times. If the world is a joke (I am not prepared to say it isn't),
it ought to be made a very difficult joke to crack. It ought to be
as hard a struggle, Sir, as possible. That's the intention. But
it's being.made far too easy. We are oiling the gates of life. They
ought to be rusted. We shall have them beginning to turn, soon,
with a smooth sound. Whereas they ought to grate upon their
hinges, Sir."
Mr. Craggs seemed pouitively to grate upon his own hinges, as
he delivered this opinion; to which he communicated immense
effect-being a cold, hard, dry man, dressed in gray and white,
like a flint; with small twinkles in his eyes, as if something
struck sparks out of them. The three natural kingdoms, indeed,
had each a fanciful representative among this brotherhood of disputants: for Snitchey was like a magpie or a raven (only not so
sleek), and the Doctor had a streaked face like a winter-pippin,
with here and there a dimple to express the peckings of the
birds, and a very little bit of pigtail behind, that stood for the
stalk.
As the active figure of a handsome young man, dressed for a
journey, and followed by a porter, bearing several packages and
baskets, entered the orchard at a brisk pace, and with an air of
gayety and hope that accorded well with the morning-these
three drew together, like the brothers of the sister Fates, or like the
Graces most effectually disguised, or like the three weird prophets
on the heath, and greeted him.
" Happy returns. Alf." said the Doctor, lightly.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

827

"A hundred happy returns of this auspicious day, Mr. Heathfield," said Snitchey, bowing low.
" Returns!" Craggs murmured in a deep voice, all alone.
"Why, what a battery!" exclaimed Alfred, stopping short,
" and one-two-three-all foreboders of no good, in the great
sea before me. I am glad you are not the first I have met this
morning: I should have taken it for a bad omen. But Grace
was the first-sweet, pleasant Grace-so I defy you all!"
" If you please, Mister, I was the first, you know," said Clemency Newcome. " She was a-walking out here, before sunrise,
you remember. I was in the house."
" That's true! Clemency was the first," said Alfred. " So I
defy you with Clemency."
"Ha, ha, ha!-for Self and Craggs," said Snitchey. "What
a defiance!"
" Not so bad a one as it appears, maybe," said Alfred, shaking hands heartily with the Doctor, and also with Snitchey
and Craggs, and then looking round. "Where are the-Good
Heavens!"
With a start, productive for the moment of a closer partner
ship between Jonathan Snitchey and Thomas Craggs than the
subsisting articles of agreement in that wise contemplated, he
hastily betook himself to where the sisters stood together, andhowever, I needn't more particularly explain his manner of saluting Marion first, and Grace afterward, than by hinting that Mr.
Craggs may possibly have considered it " too easy."
Perhaps to change the subject, Doctor Jeddler made a hasty
move toward the breakfast, and they all sat down at table.
Grace presided; but so discreetly stationed herself, as to cut off
her sister and Alfred from the rest of the company. Snitchey and
Craggs sat at opposite corners, with the blue bag between them
for safety; and the Doctor took his usual position opposite to Grace.
Clemency hovered galvanically about the table, as waitress; and




ï~~828

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

the melancholy Britain, at another and a smaller board, acted as
Grand Carver of a round of beef and a ham.
"Meat?" said Britain, approaching Mr. Snitchey, with the
carving knife and fork in his hands, and throwing the question at
him like a missile.
"Certainly," returned the lawyer.
"Do you want any!" to Craggs.
"Lean, and well done," replied that gentleman.
Having executed these orders, and moderately supplied the
Doctor (he seemed to know that nobody else wanted any thing to
eat), he lingered near the Firm as he decently could, watching
with an austere eye their disposition of the viands, and but once
relaxing the severe expression of his face. This was on the occasion of Mr. Craggs, whose teeth were not of the best, partially
choking, when he cried out with great animation, "I thought he
was gone!"
"Now, Alfred," said the Doctor, "for a word or two of business,
while we are yet at breakfast."
"While we are yet at breakfast," said Snitchey and Craggs,
who seemed to have no present idea of leaving off.
Although Alfred had not been breakfasting, and seemed to have
quite enough business on his hands as it was, he respectfully answered:
"If you please, Sir."
"If any thing could be serious," the Doctor began, "in such a-"
"Farce as this, Sir," hinted Alfred.
"In such a farce as this," observed the Doctor, "it might be
this recurrence, on the eve of separation, of a double birth-day,
which is connected with many associations pleasant to us four,
and with the recollection of a long and amicable intercourse.
That's not to the purpose."
"Ah! yes, yes, Doctor Jeddler," said the young man. "It is
to the purpose. Much to the purpose, as my heart bears witncss




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

329

this morning; and as yours does too, I know, if you would let it
speak. I leave your house to-day; I cease to be your ward today; we part with tender relations stretching far behind us, that
never can be exactly renewed, and with others dawning yet before
us," he looked down at Marion beside him, "fraught with such considerations as I must not trust myself to speak of now. Come,
come!" he added, rallying his spirits and the Doctor at once,
"there's a serious grain in this large foolish dust-heap, Doctor.
Let us allow to-day, that there is One."
" To-day!" cried the Docter. "Hear him! Ha, ha, ha! Of
all days in the foolish year. Why, on this day the great battle
was fought on this ground. On this ground where we now sit,
where I saw my two girls dance this morning, where the fruit has
just been gathered for our eating from these trees, the roots of
which are struck in Men, not earth-so many lives were lost, that
within my recollection, generations afterward, a church-yard full
of bones, and dust of bones, and chips of cloven skulls, has been
dug up from underneath our feet here. Yet not a hundred people in
that battle, knew for what they fought, or why; not a hundred
of the inconsiderate rejoicers in the victory, why they rejoiced.
Not half a hundred people were the better, for the gain or loss.
Not half a dozen men agree to this hour on the cause or merits;
and nobody, in short, ever knew any thing distinct about it, but
the mourners of the slain. Serious, too!" said the Doctor, laughing. " Such a system!"
"But all this seems to me," said Alfred, " to be very serious."
"Serious!" cried the Doctor. "If you allowed such things to
be serious, you must go mad, or die, or climb up to the top of a
mountain, and turn hermit."
"Besides-so long ago," said Alfred.
"Long ago!" returned the Doctor. "Do you know what the
world has been doing, ever since? Do you know what else it has
been doing?   I don't!"




ï~~330

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"It has gone to law a little," observed Mr. Snitchey, stirmg his
tea.
"Although the way out has been always made too easy," said
his partner.
"And you'll excuse my saying, Doctor," pursued Mr. Snitchey,
"having been already put a thousand times in possession of my
opinion, in the course of our discussions, that, in its having gone
to law, and in its legal system altogether, I do observe a serious
side-now, really, a something tangible, and with a purpose and
intention in it-"
Clemency Newcome made an angular tumble against the table,
occasioning a sounding clatter among the cups and saucers.
"Heyday! what's the matter there!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"It's this evil-inclined blue bag," said Clemency, "always tripping up somebody!"
"With a purpose and intention in it, I was saying," resumed
Snitchey, "that commands respect. Life a farce, Doctor Jeddler?
With law in it?"
The Doctor laughed, and looked at Alfred.
" Granted, if you please, that war is foolish," said Snitchey.
"There we agree. For example. Here's a smiling country,"
pointing it out with his fork, " once overrun by soldiers-trespassers every man of 'em-and laid waste by fire and sword. He, he,
he! The idea of any man exposing himself, voluntarily, to fire
and sword! Stupid, wasteful, positively ridiculous; you laugh at
your fellow-creatures, you know, when you think of it! But take
this smiling country as it stands. Think of the laws appertaining to real property; to the bequest and devise of real property;
to the mortgage and redemption of real property; to leasehold,
freehold, and copyhold estate; think," said Mr. Snitchey, with
such great emotion that he actually smacked his lips, "of the
complicated laws relating to title and proof of title, with all the
contradictory precodents and numerous acts of parliament con



ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

381

nected with them; think of the infinite number of ingenious and
interminable chancery suits, to which this pleasant prospect may
give rise;-and acknowledge, Doctor Jeddler, that there is a
green spot in the scheme about us! I believe," said Mr. Snitchey,
looking at his partner, "that I speak for Self and Craggs?"
Mr. Craggs having signified assent, Mr. Snitchey, somewhat
freshened by his recent eloquence, observed that he would take a
little more beef, and another cup of tea.
"I don't stand up for life in general," he added, rubbing his
hands and chuckling, "it's full of folly; full of something worse.
Professions of trust, and confidence, and unselfishness, and all
that. Bah, bah, bah! We see what they're worth. But you
mustn't laugh at life; you've got a game to play; a very serious
game indeed! Every body's playing against you, you know; and
you're playing against them. Oh! it's a very interesting thing.
There are deep moves upon the board. You must only laugh, Dr.
Jeddler, when you win; and then not much. He, he, he! And
then not much," repeated Snitchey, rolling his head and winking
his eye; as if he would have added, "you may do this instead!"
"Well, Alfred!" cried the Doctor, " what do you say now?"
"I say, Sir," replied Alfred, "that the greatest favor you could
do me, and yourself too, I am inclined to think, would be to try
sometimes to forget this battle-field, and others like it, in that
broader battle-field of Life; on which the sun looks every day."
" Really I'm afraid that wouldn't soften his opinions, Mr.
Alfred," said Snitchey. "The combatants are very eager and
very bitter in that same battle of Life. There's a great deal of
cutting and slashing, and firing into people's heads from behind;
terrible treading down, and trampling on; it's rather a bad business."
"I believe, Mr Snitchey," said Alfred, "there are quiet victories and struggles, great sacrifices of self, and noble acts of heroism
in it-even in many of its apparent lightnesses and contradictions




ï~~832

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

--not the less difficult to achieve, because they have no earthly
chronicle or audience; done every day in nooks and corners, and
in little households, and in men's and women's hearts-any one
of which might reconcile the sternest man to such a world, and
fill him with belief and hope in it, though two-fourths of its people
were at war, and another fourth at law; and that's a bold word."
Both the sisters listened keenly.
"Well, well!" said the Doctor, "I am too old to be converted,
even by my friend Snitchey here, or my good spinster sister,
Martha Jeddler; who had what she calls her domestic trials ages
ago, and has led a sympathizing life with all sorts of people ever
since; and who is so much of your opinion (only she's less reasonable and more obstinate, being a woman), that we can't agree,
and seldom meet. I was born upon this battle-field. I began, as
a boy, to have my thoughts directed to the real history of a battlefield. Sixty years have gone over my head; and I have never
seen the Christian world, including Heaven knows how many
loving mothers and good enough girls, like mine here, any thing
but mad for a battle-field. The same contradictions prevail iii
every thing. One must either laugh or cry at such stupendous inconsistencies; and I prefer to laugh."
Britain, who had been paying the profoundest and most melancholy attention to each speaker in his turn, seemed suddenly to
decide in favor of the same preference, if a deep sepulchral sound
that escaped him might be construed into a demonstration of
risibility. His face, however, was so perfectly unaffected by it,
both before and afterward, that although one or two of the breakfast party looked round as being startled by a mysterious noise,
nobody connected the offender with it.
Except his partner in attendance, Clemency Newcome, who,
rousing him with one of those favorite joints, her elbows, inquired
in a reproachful whisper, what he laughed at.
" Not you '" said Britain




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

88S

"Who then?"
"Humanity," said Britain. " That's the joke."
"What between master and them lawyers, he's getting more
and more addle-headed every day!" cried Clemency, giving him a
lunge with the other elbow, as a mental stimulant. "Do you
know where you are! Do you want to get warning!"
" I don't know any thing," said Britain, with a leaaen eye and
an immovable visage. " I don't care for any thing. I don't make
out any thing. I don't believe any thing. And I don't want
any thing."
Although this forlorn summary of his general condition, may
have been overcharged in an access of despondency, Benjamin
Britain-sometimes called Little Britain, to distinguish him from
Great; as we might say Young England, to express Old England
with a difference-had defined his real state more accurately than
might be supposed. For serving as a sort of man Miles to the
Doctor's Friar Bacon; and listening day after day to innumerable
orations addressed by the Doctor to various people, all tending to
show that his very existence was at best a mistake and an absurdity; this unfortunate servitor had fallen, by degrees, into such
an abyss of confused and contradictory suggestions from within and
w ithout, that Truth at the bottom of her well, was on the level
surface as compared with Britain in the depths of his mystification. The only point he clearly comprehended, was, that the
new element usually brought into these discussions by Snitchey
and Craggs, never served to make them clearer, and always seemed to give the Doctor a species of advantage and confirmation.
Therefore he looked upon the Firm as one of the proximate causes
of his state of mind, and held them in abhorrence accordingly.
"But this is not our business, Alfred," said the Doctor. " Ceasing to be my ward (as you have said) to-day; and leaving us full
to the brim of such learning as the Grammer School down here
was able to give you, and your studies in London could add to




ï~~334

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

tnat, anu such practical knowledge as a dull old country Doctor
like myself could graft upon both; you are away, now, into the
world. The first term of probation appointed by your poor father
being over, away you go now, your own master, to fulfill his second
desire: and long before your three years' tour among the foreign
schools of medicine is finished, you'll have forgotten us. Lord,
you'll forget.us easily in six months!"
" If I do-but you know better; why should I speak to you!"
said Alfred, laughing.
"I don't know any thing of the sort," returned the Doctor.
"What do you say, Marion?"
Marion, trifling with her teacup, seemed to say-but she didn't
say it-that he was welcome to forget them, if he could. Grace
pressed the blooming face against her cheek, and smiled.
" I haven't been, I hope, a very unjust steward in the execution
of my trust," pursued the Doctor; "but I am to be, at any rate,
formally discharged and released, and what not, this morning:
and here are our good friends Snitchey and Craggs, with a bagful
of papers, and accounts, and documents, for the transfer of the balance of the trust fund to you (I wish it was a more difficult one to
dispose of, Alfred, but you must get to be a great man and make
it so), and other drolleries of that sort, which are to be signed,
sealed, and delivered."
"And duly witnessed, as by law required," said Snitchey, pushing away his plate, and taking out the papers, which his partner
proceeded to spread upon the table; "and Self and Craggs having
been co-trustees with you, Doctor, in so far as the fund was concerned, we shall want your two servants to attest the signatures
--can you read, Mrs. Newcome?"
"I a'n't married, Mister," said Clemency.
"Oh. I beg you pardon. I should think not," chuckled Snitch.
ey, casting his eyes over her extraordinary figure.  "You can
read?"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

385

" A little," answered Clemency.
" The marriage service, night and morning, eh?" observed the
lawyer, jocosely.
"No," said Clemency. " Too hard. I only reads a thimble."
"Read a thimble!" echoed Snitchey. "What are you talking about, young woman?"
Clemency nodded. " And a nutmeg grater."
"Why this is a lunatic! a subject for the Lord High Chancellor!"
said Snitchey, staring at her.
"If possessed of any property," stipulated Craggs.
Grace, however, interposing, explained that each of the articles
in question bore an engraved motto, and so formed the pocket
library of Clemency Newcome, who was not much given to the
study of books.
" Oh, that's it, is it, Miss Grace!" said Snitchey. " Yes, yes.
Ha, ha, ha! I thought our friend was an idiot. She looks uncommonly like it," he muttered, with a supercilious glance. "And
what does the Thimble say, Mrs. Newcome?"
"I a'n't married, Mister," observed Clemency.
"Well, Newcome. Will that do?" said the lawyer. " What
does the thimble say, Newcome?"
How Clemency, before replying to this quession, held one pocket
open, and looked down into its yawning depths for the thimble
which wasn't there-and how she then held an opposite pocket
open, and seemed to descry it, like a pearl of great price, at the
bottom, cleared away such intervening obstacles as a handkerchief,
an end of wax candle, a flushed apple, an orange, a lucky penny,
a cramp bone, a padlock, a pair of scissors in a sheath, more expressively describablc as promising young shears, a handful or so
of loose, beads, several balls of cotton, a needle-case, a cabinet col
lection of curl-papers, and a biscuit, all of which articles she intrusted individually and severally to Britain to hold-is of no consequence. Nor how, in her determination to grasp this pocket by




ï~~886

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

the throat and keep it prisoner (for it had a tendency to swing and
twist itself round the nearest corner), she assumed, and calmly
maintained, an attitude apparently inconsistent with the human
anatomy and the laws of gravity. It is enough that at last she
triumphantly produced the thimble on her finger, and rattled the
nutmeg-grater; the literature of both those trinkets being obviously in course of wearing out and wasting away, through excessive friction.
"That's the thimble, is it, young woman?" said Mr. Snitchey,
diverting himself at her expense. " And what does the thimbe
say?"
" It says," replied Clemency, reading slowly round as if it were
a tower, "For-get and for-give."
Snitchey and Craggs laughed heartily.     " So new!" said
Snitchey. " So easy!" said Craggs. " Such a knowledge of human nature in it," said Snitchey. "So applicable to the affairs of
life," said Craggs.
"And the nutmeg-grater?" inquired the head of the Firm.
"The grater says," returned Clemency, "Do as you-wouldbe-done-by."
"' Do, or you'll be done brown,' you mean," said Mr. Snitchey.
"I don't understand," retorted Clemency, shaking her head
vaguely. "I a'n't no lawyer."
"I am afraid that if she was, Doctor," said Mr. Snitchey, turning to him suddenly, as if to anticipate any effect that might
otherwise be consequent on this retort, "she'd find it to be the
golden rule of half her clients. They are serious enough in thatwhimsical as your world is-and lay the blame on us afterward.
We, in our profession, are little else than mirrors, after all, Mr.
Alfred; but we are generally consulted by angry and quarrelsome
people, who are not in their best looks; and it's rather hard to
quarrel with us if we reflect unpleasant aspects. I think," said
Mr. Snitchey, "that I speak for Self and Craggs?"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFF

337

"Decidedly," said Craggs.
"And so, if Mr. Britain will oblige us with a mouthful of ink,"
said Mr. Snitchey, returning to the papers, " we'll sign, seal, and
deliver as soon as possible, or the coach will be coming past before
we know where we are."
If one might judge from his appearance, there was every probability of the coach coming past before Mr. Britain knew where he
was; for he stood in a state of abstraction, mentally balancing the
Doctor against the lawyers, and the lawyers against the Doctor,
and their clients against both; and engaged in feeble attempts to
make the thitible and nutmeg-grater (a new idea to him) square
with any body's system of philosophy; and, in short, bewildering
himself as much as ever his great namesake has done with theories and schools. But Clemency, who was his good Geniusthough lie had the meanest possible opinion of her understanding,
by reason of her seldom troubling herself with abstract speculations,
and being always at hand to do the right thing at the right time
-having produced the ink in a twinkling, tendered him the further service of recalling him to himself by the application of her
elbows; with which gentle flappers she so jogged his memopy, in
a more literal construction of that phrase than usual, that he soon
became quite fresh and brisk.
How he labored under an apprehension not uncommon to persons in his degree, to whom the use of pen and ink is an event, that
he couldn't append his name to a document not of his own writing,
without committing himself in some shadowy manner, or somehow
signing away vague and enormous sums of money; and how he
approached the deeds under protest, and by dint of the Doctor's
coercion, and insisted on pausing to look at them before writing
(the cramp-d hand, to say nothing of the phraseology, being so
much Chinese to him), and also on turning them round to see
whether there was any thing fraudulent, underneath; and how,
having signed his name, he became desolate as one who had part
21




ï~~38

CIIRlSTMAS STOIES.

ed with his property and rights; I want the time to tell. Also
how the blue bag containing his signature, afterward had a mysterious interest for him, and he couldn't leave it; also, how Cl emency
Newcome, in an ecstasy of laughter at the idea of her own importance and dignity, brooded over the whole table with her two elbows like a spread eagle, and reposed her head upon her left arm
as a preliminary to the formation of certain cabalistic characters.
which required a deal of ink, and imaginary counterparts whereof
she executed at the same time with her tongue. Also, how, having once tasted ink, she became thirsty in that regard, as tigers
are said to be after tasting another sort of fluid, and wanted to
sign every thing, and put her name in all kinds of places. In
brief, the Doctor was discharged of his trust and all its responsibilities; and Alfred, taking it on himself, was fairly started on the
journey of life.
" Britain!" said the Doctor. " Run to the gate, and watch for
the coach. Time flies, Alfred!"
" Yes, Sir, yes," returned the young man hurriedly. " Dear
Grace! a moment! Marion--so young and beautiful, so winning
and so much admired, dear to my heart as nothing else in life isremember! I leave Marion to you!"
"She has always been a sacred charge to me, Alfred. She is
doubly so now. I will be faithful to my trust, believe me."
"I do believe it, Grace. I know it well. Who could took upon
your face, and hear your earnest voice, and not know it! Ah.
good Grace! If I had your well-governed heart, and *x*nquil
mind, how bravely I would leave this place to-day!"
"Would you?" she answered with a quiet smile.
"And yet, Grace-Sister, seems the natural word."
"Use it!" she said quickly. " I am glad to hear it, call me
nothing else."
"And yet, Sister, then," said Alfred, " Marion and I had better
have your true and steadfast qualities serving us here, and making




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

839

us both happier and better. I wouldn't carry them away, to sus
tain myself, if I could!"
"Coach upon the hill-top!" exclaimed Britainm.
"Time flies, Alfred," said the Doctor.
Marion had stood apart, with her eyes fixed upon the ground;
but this warning being given, her young lover brought her tenderly
to where her sister stood, and gave her into her embrace.
" I have been telling Grace, dear Marion," he said, " that you
are her charge; my precious trust at parting. And when I come
back and reclaim you, dearest, and the bright prospect of our married life lies stretched before us, it shall be one of our chief pleasures to consult how we can make Grace happy; how we can anticipate her wishes; how we can show our gratitude and love to
her; how we can return her something of the debt she will have
heaped upon us."
The younger sister had one hand in his; the other rested on
her sister's neck. She looked into that sister's eyes so calm,
serene, and cheerful, with a gaze in which affection, admiration,
sorrow, wonder, almost veneration, were blended. She looked into
that sister's face, as if it were the face of some bright angel.
Calm, serene, and cheerful, it looked back on her and on her
lover.
" And when the time comes, as it must one day," said Alfred"I wonder it has never come yet: but Grace knows best, for
Grace is always right-when she will want a friend to open her
whole heart to, and to be to her something of what she has been
to us-then, Marion, how faithful we will prove, and what delight
to us to know that she, our dear good sister, loves and is loved
again, as we would have her!"
Still the younger sister looked into her eyes, and turned not--
even toward him. And still those honest eyes looked back, so
calm, serene, and cheerful, on herself and on her lover.
" And when all that is past, and we are old, and living (as we




ï~~840

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

must!) together-close together; talking often of old times," said
Alfred-" these shall be our favorite times among them-this day
most of all; and telling each other what we thought and felt, and
hoped and feared, at parting: and how we couldn't bear to say
good-by-"
" Coach coming through the wood," cried Britain.
" Yes! I am ready-and how we met again, so happily, in
spite of all; we'll make this day the happiest in all the year, and
keep it as a treble birth-day. Shall we, dear?"
"Yes!" interposed the elder sister, eagerly, and with a radiant
smile. "Yes! Alfred, don't linger. There's no time. Say goodby to Marion. And heaven be with you!"
He pressed the younger sister to his heart. Released from his
embrace, she again clung to her sister; and her eyes, with the
same blended look, again sought those so calm, serene, and
cheerful.
" Farewell my boy!" said the Doctor. " To talk about any
serious correspondence or serious affections, and engagements, and
so forth, in such a-ha, ha, ha!-you know what I mean-why,
that of course, would be sheer nonsense. All I can say is, that if
you and Marion should continue in the same foolish minds, I shall
not object to have you for a son-in-law one of these days."
"Over the bridge!" cried Britain.
"Let it come!" said Alfred, wringing the Doctor's hand stoutly.
"Think of me sometimes, my old friend and guardian, as seriously
as you can! Adieu, Mr. Snitchey! Farewell, Mr. Craggs!"
"Comrning down the road!" cried Britain
"A kiss of Clemency Newcome for long acquaintance sakeshake hands, Britain-Marion, dearest heart, good-by!    Sister
Grace! remember!"
The quiet household figure, and the face so beautiful in its
serenity, were turned toward him in reply; but Marion's look
and attitude remained unchanged.




ï~~THE   BATTLE     OF LIFE.               341
'I ne coach was at the gate. There was a bustle with the lug.
gage. The coach drove away. Marion never moved.
"He waves his hat to you, my love," said Grace. "Your
chosen husband, darling. Look!"
The younger sister raised her head, and, for a moment, turned
t. Then turning back again, and fully meeting, for the first
time, those calm eyes, fell sobbing on her neck.
"Oh, Grace. God bless you! But I can not bear to see it,
Grace! It breaks my heart."




ï~~PART THE SECOND.

SNITCHEY and Craggs had a snug little office on the old Battle
Ground, where they drove a snug little business, and fought a
great many small pitched battles for a great many contending
parties. Though it could hardly be said of these conflicts that
they were running fights-for in truth they generally proceeded
at a snail's pace-the part the Firm had in them came so far
within that general denomination, that now they took a shot at
this Plaintiff, and now aimed a chop at that Defendant, now
made a heavy charge at an estate in Chancery, and now had
some light skirmishing among an irregular body of small debtors,
just as the occasion served, and the enemy happened to present
himself. The Gazette was an important and profitable feature in
some of their fields, as well as in fields of greater renown; and in
most of the Actions wherein they showed their generalship, it was
afterward observed by the combatants that they had had great
difficulty in making each other out, or in knowing with any degree of distinctness what they were about, in consequence of the
vast amount of smoke by which they were surrounded.
The offices of Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs stood convenient,
with an open door, down two smooth steps in the market-place:
so that any angry farmer inclining toward hot water, might tumble into it at once. Their special council-chamber and hall of
conference was an old back room up-stairs, with a low dark ceiling, which seemed to be knitting its brows gloomily in the consideration of tangled points of law. It was furnished with some highbacked leathern chairs, garnished with great goggle-eyed brass
nails, of which, every here and there, two or three had fallen oiut;
842




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

343

or had been picked out, perhaps, by the wandering thumbs and
fore-fingers of bewildered clients. There was a framed print of a
great judge in it, every curl in whose dreadful wig had made a
man's hair stand on end. Bales of papers filled the dusty closets,
shelves, and tables; and round the wainscoat there were tiers of
boxcs, padlocked and fireproof, with people's names painted outside, which anxious visitors felt themselves, by a cruel enchantment, obliged to spell backward and forward, and to make anagrams of, while they sat, seeming to listen to Snitchey and
Craggs, without comprehending one word of what they said.
Snitchey and Craggs had each, in private life as in professional
existence, a partner of his own. Snitchey and Craggs were the
best friends in the world, and had a real confidence in one another; but Mrs. Snitchey, by a dispensation not uncommon in
the affairs of life, was, on principle, suspicious of Mr. Craggs,
and Mrs. Craggs was, on principle, suspicious of Mr. Snitchey.
" Your Snitcheys indeed," the latter lady would observe, sometimes, to Mr. Craggs; using that imaginative plural as if in
disparagement of an objectionable pair of pantaloons, or other
articles not possessed of a singular number: "I don't see what
you want with your Snitcheys, for my part. You trust a great
deal too much to your Snitcheys, I think, and I hope you may
never find my words come true." While Mrs. Snitchey would
observe to Mr. Snitchey, of Craggs, "that if ever he was led
away by man he was led away by that man; and that if ever
she read a double purpose in a mortal eye, she read that purpose
in Craggs's eye "  Notwithstanding this, however, they were all
very good friends in general: and Mrs. Snitchey and Mrs. Craggs
maintained a close bond of alliance against "the office," which
they both considered a Blue Chamber, and common enemy, full
of dangerous (because unknown) machinations.
In this office, nevertheless, Snitchey and Craggs made honey
for their several hives. Here sometimes they would linger, of a




ï~~844

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

fine evening, at the window of their council-chamber, overlooking
the old battle-ground, and wonder (but that was generally at assize time, when much business had made them sentimental) at
the folly of mankind, who couldn't always be at peace with one
another, and go to law comfortably. Here days, and weeks, and
months, and years, passed over them; their calendar, the gradually diminishing number of brass nails in the leathern chairs, and
the increasing bulk of papers on the tables. Here nearly three
years' flight had thinned the one and swelled the other, since the
breakfast in the orchard; when they sat together in consultation.
at night.
Not alone; but with a man of thirty, or about that time of
life, negligently dressed, and somewhat haggard in the face, but
well-made, well-attired, and well-looking, who sat in the armchair of state, with one hand in his breast, and the other in
his disheveled hair, pondering moodily. Messrs. Snitchey and
Craggs sat opposite each other at a neighboring desk. One of the
fireproof boxes, unpadlocked and opened, was upon it; a part of
its contents lay strewn upon the table, and the rest was then in
course of passing through the hands of Mr. Snitchey, who brought
it to the candle, document by document, looked at every paper
singly, as he produced it, shook his head, and handed it to Mr.
Craggs, who looked it over also, shook his head, and laid it down.
Sometimes they would stop, and shaking their heads in concert,
look toward the abstracted client; and the name on the box
being Michael Warden, Esquire, we may conclude from these
premises that the name and the box were both his, and that the
affairs of Michael Warden, Esquire, were in a bad way.
"That's all," said Mr. Snitchey, turning up the last paper.
"Really, there's no other resource. No other resource."
"All lost, spent, wasted, pawned, borrowed and sold, eh?" said
the client, looking up.
" All," returned Mr. Snitchey.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

346

"Nothing else to be done, you say?'
"Nothing at all."
The client bit his nails, and pondered again.
"And I am not even personally safe in England?   You hold
to that, do you?"
" In no part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and lie
land," replied Mr. Snitchey.
" A mere prodigal son with no father to go back to, no swine
to keep, and no husks to share with them? Eh?" pursued the
client rocking one leg over the other, and searching the ground
with his eyes.
Mr. Snitchey coughed, as if to deprecate the being supposed to
participate in any figurative illustration of a legal position. Mr.
Craggs, as if to express that it was a partnership view of the
subject, also coughed.
" Ruined at thirty!" said the client. " Humph!"
"Not ruined, Mr. Warden," returned Snitchey. "Not so bad
as that. You have done a good deal toward it, I must say, but
you are not ruined. A little nursing-"
" A little Devil," said the client.
"Mr. Craggs," said Snitchey, " will you oblige me with a
pinch of snuff?  Thank you, Sir."
As the imperturbable lawyer applied it to his nose, with great
apparent relish and a perfect absorption of his attention in the
proceeding, the client gradually broke into a smile, and looking
up, said:
"You talk of nursing. How long nursing?"
"How long nursing?" repeated Snitchey, dusting the snuff
from his fingers, and making a slow calculation in his mind.
" For your involved estate, Sir?  In good hands?  S. and C.'s
say? Six or seven years."
To starve for six or seven years!" said the client with a fretful
laugh, and an impatient change of his position.




ï~~846

86CHIR1IS-IMAS  STUEIES.

" To starve for six or seven years, Mr. Wardeh," said Snitchey,
"would be very uncommon indeed. You might get another
estate by showing yourself, the while. But we don't think you
couldl do it-speaking for Self and Craggs-and consequently
don't advise it.
" What (do you advise?"
" Nursing, I say," repeated Snitchey. " Some few years of
nursing by Self and Craggs would bring it round. But to enable
us to make terms, and hold terms, and you to keep terms, you
must go away, you must live abroad. As to starvation, we could
insure you some hundreds a year to starve upon, even in the beginning, I dare say, Mr. Warden."
" Hundreds," said the client. "And I have spent thousands!"
"That," retorted Mr. Snitchey, putting the papers slowly back
into the cast-iron box, "there is no doubt about. No doubt
a-bout," he repeated to himself, as he thoughtfully pursued his
occupation.
The lawyer very likely knew his man; at any rate his dry,
shrewd, whimsical manner, had a favorable influence upon the
client's moody state, and disposed hin to be more free and unreserved. Or perhaps the client knew his man; and had elicited
such encouragement as he had received, to render some purpose
he was about to disclose the more defensible in appearance.
Gradually raising his head, he sat looking at his immovable adviser with a smile, which presently broke into a laugh.
" After all," he said, " my iron-headed friend-" Mr. Snitchey
vointed out his partner. " Self and-excuse me-Craggs."
I beg Mr. Craggs's pardon" said the client. " After all, my
iron-headed friends," he leaned forward in his chair, and dropped
his voice a little, " you don't know half my ruin yet."
Mr. Snitchey stopped and stared at him. Mr. Craggs also
stared.
"I am not only deep in debt," said the client, "but I am deep in-"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

347

"Not in love!" cried Snitchey.
"Yes!" said the client, falling back in his chair, and survey
ing the Firm with his hands in his pockets. " Deep in love."
"And not with an heiress, Sir?" said Snitchey.
" Not with an heiress."
"Nor a rich lady?"
"Nor a rich lady that I know of-except in beauty and merit "
"A single lady, I trust?" said Mr. Snitchey with great ea
pression.
" Certainly."
" It's not one of Doctor Jeddler's daughters?" suddenly squaring
his elbows on his knees, and advancing his face at least a yard.
"Yes!" returned the client.
" Not his younger daughter?" said Snitchey.
" Yes!" returned the client.
"Mr. Craggs," said Snitchey, much relieved, "will you oblige
me with another pinch of snuff?  Thank you. I amni happy to
say it don't signify, Mr. Warden; she's engaged, Sir, she's b~spoke. My partner can corroborate me. We know the fact."
" We know the fact," repeated Craggs.
" Why, so do I, perhaps," returned the client quietly. "What
of tb.tt?  Are you men of the world, and did you never hear of
a wman changing her mind?"
" There certainly have been actions for breach," said Mr.
Snitchey, " brought against both spinsters and widows, but in the
majority cf cases-"
"Casey!" interposed the client, impatiently. " Don't talk to
me of ca"ns. The general precedent is in a much larger volume
than an" of your law books. Besides, do you think I have lived
six wve': in the Doctor's house for nothing?"
"I t ink, Sir," observed Mr. Snitchey, gravely addressing himself to ',is partner, " that of all the scrapes Mr. Warden's horses
have brought him into at one time and another-and they have




ï~~648

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

been pretty numerous and pretty expensive, as none know better
than himself and you and I-the worst scrape may turn out to be, if
he talks in this way, his having been ever left by one of them at
the Doctor's garden wall, with three broken ribs, a snapped collarbone, and the Lord knows how many bruises. We didn't think so
much of it at the time, when we knew he was going on well under
the Doctor's hands and roof; but it looks bad now, Sir. Bad!
It looks very bad. Doctor Jeddler too-our client, Mr. Craggs."
" Mr. Alfred Heathfield, too-a sort of client, Mr. Snitchey,"
said Craggs.
"Mr. Michael Warden, too, a kind of client," said the careless
visitor, "and no bad one either: having played the fool for ten or
twelve years. However, Mr. Michael Warden has sown his wild
oats now; there's their crop, in that box; and means to repent
and be wvise. And in proof of it, Mr. Michael Warden means, if
he can, to marry Marion, the Doctor's lovely daughter, and to
carry her away with him."
"Really, Mr. Craggs," Snitchey began.
"Really, Mr. Snitchey, and Mr. Craggs, partners both," said
the client, interrupting him; "you know your duty to your
clients, and you know, well enough, I am sure, that it is no part
of it to interfere in a mere love affair, which I am obliged to confide to you. I am not going to carry the young lady off, without
her own consent. There's nothing illegal in it. I never was Mr.
Heathfield's bosom friend. I violate no confidence of his. I love
where he loves, and I mean to win where he would win, if I
can."
"He can't, Mr. Craggs," said Snitchey, evidently anxious and
discomfited. "He can't do it, Sir. She dotes on Mr. Alfred."
"Does she?" returned the client.
"Mr. Craggs, she dotes on him, Sir," persisted Snitchey.
"I didn't live six weeks, some few months ago, in the Doctor's
house for nothing; and I doubted that soon," observed the client




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

3411

" She would have doted on him, if her sister could have brought
it about; but I watched them. Marion avoided his name, avoided the subject: shrunk from the least allusion to it. with evident
distress."
"Why should she, Mr. Craggs, you know? Why should she,
Sir?" inquired Snitchey.
"I don't know why she should, though there are many likely
reasons," said the client, smiling at the attention and perplexity
expressed in Mr. Snitchey's shining eye, and at his cautious way
of carrying on the conversation, and making himself informed
upon the subject; "but I know she does. She was very young
when she made the engagment-if it may be called one, I am
not even sure of that-and has repented of it, perhaps. Perhaps
-it seems a foppish thing to say, but upon my soul I don't mean
it in that light-she may have fallen in love with me, as I have
fallen in love with her."
" He, he! Mr. Alfred, her old play-fellow too, you remember,
Mr. Craggs," said Snitchey, with a disconcerted laugh; " knew
her almost from a baby!"
"Which makes it the more probable that she may be tired of
his idea," calmhnly pursued the client, " and not indisposed to exchange it for the newer one of another lover, who presents himself (or is presented by his horse) under romantic circumstances;
has the not unfavorable reputation-with a country girl-of having lived thoughtlessly and gayly, without doing much harm to
any body; and who, for his youth and figure, and so forth-this
may seem foppish again, but upon my soul I don't mean it in
that light-might perhaps pass muster in a crowd with Mr.
Alfred himself."
There was no gainsaying the last clause, certainly; and Mr.
Snitchey, glancing at him, thought so. There was something
naturally graceful and pleasant in the very carelessness of his air.
It seemed to suggest, of his comely face and well-knit figure, that




ï~~CHRISTMAS STORIES.

they might be greatly better if he chose: and that, once roused
and made earnest (but he never had been earnest yet), he could
be full of fire and purpose. "A dangerous sort of libertine,"
thought the shrewd lawyer, "to seem to catch the spark he wants
from a young lady's eyes."
" Now, observe, Snitchey," he continued, rising and taking him
by the button, "and Craggs," taking him by the button also, and
placing one partner on either side of him, so that neither might
evade him. "I don't ask you for any advice. You are right to
keep quite aloof from all parties in such a matter, which is not one
in which grave men like you could interfere, on any side. I am
briefly going to review in half-a-dozen words, my position and intention, and then I shall leave it to you to do the best for me,
in money matters, that you can: seeing, that, if I run away with
the Doctor's beautiful daughter (as I hope to do, and to become
another man under her bright influence), it will be, for the moment, more chargeable than running away alone. But I shall
soon make all that up in an altered life."
"I think it will be better not to hear this, Mr. Craggs?" said
Snitchey. looking at him across the client.
"I think not," said Craggs-both listening attentively.
"Well! You needn't hear it," replied their client. "I'll
mention it, however. I don't mean to ask the Doctor's consent,
because he wouldn't give it me. But I mean to do the Doctor
no wrong or harm, because (besides there being nothing serious
in such trifles, as he says) I hope to rescue his child, my Marion,
from what I see-I know-she dreads and contemplates with
misery: that is, the return of this old lover. If any thing in the
world is true, it is true that she dreads his return. Nobody is injured, so far. I am so harried and worried here just now, that I
lead the life of a flying-fish; skulk about in the dark, am shut
out of my own house, and warned off my own grounds: but that
house, and those grounds, and many an acre besides, will come




ï~~THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE.

35l

back to me one day, as you know and say; and Marion will probably be richer-on your showing, who are never sanguine-ten
years hence as my wife, than as the wife of Alfred Heathfield,
whose return she dreads (remember that), and in whom or in any
man, my passion is not surpassed. Who is injured yet? It is a
fair case throughout. My right is as good as his, if she decide in
my favor; and I will try my right by her alone. You will like
to know no more, after this, and I will tell you no more. Now
you know my purpose, and wants. When must I leave here?"
"In a week," said Snitchey. " Mr. Craggs-?"
"In something less, I should say," responded Craggs.
"In a month," said the client, after attentively watching the
two faces. " This day month. To-day is Thursday. Succeed
or fail, on this day month I go."
" It's too long a delay," said Snitchey; " much too long. But
let it be so. I thought he'd have stipulated for three," he murmured to himself. "Are you going? Good-night, Sir!"
"Good-night!" returned the client, shaking hands with the
Firm. "You'll live to see me making a good use of riches yet.
Henceforth, the star of my destiny is, Marion!"
" Take care of the stairs, Sir," replied Snitchey; "for she don't
shine there. Good-night!"
" Good-night!"
So they both stood at the stair-head with a pair of office-candies, watching him down; and when he had gone away, stood
looking at each other.
"What do you think of all this, Mr. Craggs?" said Snitchey.
Mr. Craggs shook his head.
" It was our opinion, on the day when that release was executed, that there was something curious in the parting of that
pair, I recollect," said Snitchey.
"It was," said Mr. Craggs.
"' Perhaps he deceives himself altogether," pursued Mr. Snitchey,




ï~~352

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

locking up the fireproof box, and putting it away; "or if
he don't, a little bit of fickleness and perfidy is not a miracle, Mr.
Craggs. And yet I thought that pretty face was very true. I
thought," said Mr. Snitchey, putting on his great coat (for the
weather was very cold), drawing on his gloves, and snuffing
out one candle, "that I had even seen her character becomi g
stronger and more resolved of late. More like her sister's."
"Mrs. Craggs was of the same opinion," returned Craggs.
"I'd really give a trifle to-night," observed Mr. Snitchey, who
was a good-natured man, "if I could believe that Mr. Warden
was reckoning without his host; but light-headed, capricious, and
unballasted as he is, he knows something of the world and its
people (he ought to, for he has bought what he does know, dear
enough); and I can't quite think that. We had better not interfere: we can do nothing, Mr. Craggs, but keep quiet."
" Nothing," returned Craggs.
"Our friend the Doctor makes light of such things," said Mr.
Snitchey, shaking his head. " I hope he mayn't stand in need of
his philosophy. Our friend Alfred talks of the battle of life." he
shook his head again, "I hope he mayn't be cut down early in
the day. Have you got your hat, Mr. Craggs?"   I tm going to
put the other candle out."
Mr. Craggs replying in the affirmative, Mr. Snitchey Q'uited the
action to the word, and they groped their way out of the councilchamber: now as dark as the subject, or the law in gemn ral.
My story passes to a quiet little study, where, on th.t same
night, the sisters and the hale old Doctor sat by a cheer ful fireside. Grace was working at her needle. Marion read aloud
from a book before her. The Doctor, in his dressing-gown and
slippers, with his feet spread out upon the warm rug, leaned back
in his easy chair, and listened to the book, and looked upon his
daughters.




ï~~THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE.

853

They were very beautiful to look upon. Two better faces for
a fireside, never made a fireside bright and sacred. Something
of the difference between them had been softened down in three
years' time, and enthroned upon the clear blow of the younger
sister, looking through her eyes, and thrilling in her voice, was
the same earnest nature that her own motherless youth had
ripened in the elder sister long ago. But she still appeared at
once the lovelier and weaker of the two; still seemed to rest her
head upon her sister's breast, and put her trust in her, and look
into her eyes, for counsel and reliance. Those loving eyes, so
calm serene, and cheerful, as of old.
"' And being in her own home,'" read Marion, from the book;
"' her home made exquisitely dear by these remembrances, she
now began to know that the great trial of her heart must soon
come on, and could not be delayed. Oh, Home, our comforter and
friend when others fall away, to part with whom, at any step
between the cradle and the grave-' "
" Marion, my love!" said Grace.
"Why, Puss!" exclaimed her father, " what's the matter?"
She put her hand upon the hand her sister stretched toward
her, and read on; her voice still faltering and trembling, though
she made an effort to command it when thus interrupted.
"' To part with whom, at any step between the cradle and
the grave, is always sorrowful. Oh, Home, so true to us, so often
slighted in return, be lenient to them that turn away from thee,
and do not haunt their erring footsteps too reproachfully! Let no
kind looks, no well remembered smiles, be seen upon thy phantom face. Let no ray of affection, welcome, gentleness, forbearance, cordiality, shine from thy white head. Let no old loving
word or tone rise up in judgment against thy deserter; but if
thou canst look harshly and severely, do, in mercy to the Penitent!' "
" Dear Marion, read no more to-night," said Grace-for she
was weeping.
22




ï~~854

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"I can not," she replied, and closed the book. "The words
seem all on fire!"
The Doctor was amused at this; and laughed as he patted her
on the head.
"What! overcome by a story-book!" said Doctor Jeddler
"Print and paper! Well, well, it's all one. It's as rational to
make a serious matter of print and paper as of any thing else.
But dry your eyes, love, dry your eyes. I dare say the heroine
has got home again long ago, and made it up all round-and if
she hasn't, a real home is only four walls; and a fictitious one,
mere rags and ink. What's the matter now?"
"It's only me, Mister," said Clemency, putting in her head at
the door.
"And what's the matter with you?" said the Doctor.
"Oh, bless you, nothing an't the matter with me," returned
Clemency-and truly too, to judge from her well-soaped face, in
which there gleamed as usual the very soul of good humor, which,
ungainly as she was, made her quite engaging. Abrasions on the
elbows are not generally understood, it is true, to range within
that class of personal charms called beauty-spots. But it is better,
going through the world, to have the arms chafed in that narrow
passage, than the temper: and Clemency's was sound and whole
as any beauty's in the land.
"Nothing an't the matter with me," said Clemency, entering,
"but-come a little closer, Mister."
The Doctor, in some astonishment, complied with this invitation.
"You said I wasn't to give you one before them, you know,"
said Clemency.
A novice in the family might have supposed from her extraor.
dinary ogling, as she said it, as well as from a singular rapture or
ecstasy which pervaded her elbows, as if she were embracing
herself, that "one," in its most favorable interpretation, meant a




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

355

chaste salute. Indeed the Doctor himself seemed alarmed, for
the moment; but quickly regained his composure, as Clemency,
having had recourse to both her pockets-beginning with the
right one, going away to the wrong one, and afterward coming
back to the right one again-produced a letter from the post.
office.
" Britain was riding by on an errand," she chuckled, handing
it to the Doctor, "and see the Mail come in, and waited for it.
There's A. H. in the corner. Mr. Alfred's on his journey home.
I bet. We shall have a wedding in the house-there was two
spoons in my saucer this morning. Oh, Luck, how slow he opens
it!"
All this she delivered by way of soliloquy, gradually rising
higher and higher on tiptoe, in her impatience to hear the news,
and making a corkscrew of her apron, and a bottle of her mouth.
At last, arriving at a climax of suspense, and seeing the Doctor
still engaged in the perusal of the letter, she came down flat upon
the soles of her feet again, and cast her apron, as a vail, over her
head, in a mute despair, and inability to bear it any longer.
"Here, girls!" cried the Doctor. "I can't help it: I never
could keep a secret in my life. There are not many secrets, indeed, worth being kept in such a-well! never mind that. Alfr-1's coming home, my dears, directly."
"Directly!" exclaimed Marion.
" What! The story-book is soon forgotten!" said the Doctor,
pinching her cheek. "I thought the news would dry those tears.
Yes. ' Let it be a surprise,' he says, here. But I can't let it be
a surprise. He must have a welcome."
"Directly!" repeated Marion.
" Why, perhaps not what your impatience calls ' directly,'" returned the Doctor; "but pretty soon, too. Let us see. Let us
see. To-day is Thursday, is it not?   Then he promises to be
here this day month."




ï~~856

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"This day month!" repeated Marion, softly.
" A gay day and a holiday for us," said the cheerful voice of her
sister Grace, kissing her in congratulation. "Long looked forwara
to, dearest, and come at last."
She answered with a smile; a mournful smile, but full of
sisterly affection: and as she looked in her sister's face, and
listened to the quiet music of her voice, picturing the happiness
of his return, her own face glowed with hope and joy.
knd with a something else: a something shining more and
more through all the rest of its expression: for which I have no
name. It was not exultation, triumph, proud enthusiasm. They
are not so calmly shown. It was not love and gratitude alone,
though love and gratitude were part of it. It emanated from no
sord: I1 thought, for sordid thoughts do not light up the brow, and
hover on the lips, and move the spirit, like a fluttered light, until
the sy.pathetic figure trembles.
Doeor Jeddler, in spite of his system of philosophy-which he
was continually contradicting and denying in practice, but more
famous philosophers have done that-could not help having as
much interest in the return of his old ward and pupil, as if it had
been a serious event. So he sat himself down in his easy chair
again, stretched out his slippered feet once more upon the rug, read
the letter over and over a great many times, and talked it over
more times still.
"Ah! The day was," said the Doctor, looking at the fire,
"when you and he, Grace, used to trot about arm-in-arm, in his
holiday time, like a couple of walking dolls. You remember?"
" I remember," she answered, with her pleasant laugh, and
plying her needle busily.
"This day month, indeed!" mused the Doctor. "That hardly
seems a twelve-month ago. And where was my little Marion
then!"
"Never far from her sister," said Marion, cheerily, "however




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

357

little. Grace was every thing to me, even when she was a young
child herself."
" True, Puss, true," returned the Doctor. " She was a staid
little woman, was Grace, and a wise housekeeper, and a busy,
quiet, pleasant body; bearing with our humors and anticipating
our wishes, and always ready to forget her own, even in those
times. I never knew you positive or obstinate, Grace, my darling,
even then, on any subject but one."
"I am afraid I have changed sadly for the worse, since,"
laughed Grace, still busy at her work. "What was that one,
father?"
"Alfred, of course," said the Doctor. "Nothing would serve
you but you must be called Alfred's wife; so we called you
Alfred's wife; and you liked it better, I believe (odd as it seems
now), than being called a Duchess, if we could have made you
one."
"Indeed!" said Grace, placidly.
"Why, don't you remember?" inquired the Doctor.
"I think I remember something of it," she returned, "but not
much. It's so long ago."   And as she sat at her work, she
hummed the burden of an old song, which the Doctor liked.
" Alfred will find a real wife soon," she said, breaking off;
"and that will be a happy time indeed for all of us. My three
years' trust is nearly at an end, Marion. It has been a very easy
one. I shall tell Alfred, when I give you back to him, that you
have loved him dearly all the time, and that he has never once
needed my good services. May I tell him so, love?"
" Tell him, dear Grace," replied Marion, "that there never
was a trust so generously, nobly, steadfastly discharged: and that
I have loved you, all the time, dearer and dearer every day; and
oh! how dearly now!"
" Nay," said her cheerful sister, returning her embrace, "I can
scarcely tell him that; we will leave my deserts to Alfred's imag



ï~~358

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

ination. It will be liberal enough, dear Marion; like youl
own."
With that she resumed the work she had for a moment laid
down, when her sister spoke so fervently: and with it the old
song the Doctor liked to hear. And the Doctor, still reposing in
hia easy chair, with his slippered feet stretched out before him on
th. rug, listening to the tune, and beat time on his knee with
Alfred's letter, and looked at his two daughters, and thought that
among the many trifles of the trifling world, these trifles were
agreeable enough.
Clemency Newcome in the mean time, having accomplished
her mission and lingered in the room until she had made herself
a party to the news, descended to the kitchen, where her coadjutor, Mr. Britain, was regaling after supper, surrounded by such a
plentiful collection of bright pot-lids, well scoured saucepans, burnished dinner-covers, gleaming kettles, and other tokens of her
industrious habits, arranged upon the walls and shelves, that he
sat as in the centre of a hall of mirrors. The majority did not
give forth very flattering portraits of him, certainly; nor were
they by any means unanimous in their reflections; as some made.aim very long faced, others very broad faced, some tolerably well
looking, others vastly ill looking, according to their several manners of reflecting; which were as various, in respect of one fact as
those of so many kinds of men. But they all agreed that in the
midst of them sat, quite at his ease, an individual with a pipe in
his mouth, and a jug of beer at his elbow, who nodded condescendingly, to Clemency, when she stationed herself at the same table.
"Well, Clemmy," said Britain, " how are you by this time, and
what's the news?"
clemency told him the news, which he received very graciously.
A gracious change had come over Benjamin from head to foot.
He was much broader, much redder, much more cheerful, and
much jollier in all respects. It seemed as if his face had been




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

859

tied up in a knot before, and was now untwisted and smoothed
out.
"There'll be another job for Snitchey and Craggs, I suppose," he
observed, puffing slowly at his pipe. "More witnessing for you
and me, perhaps, Clemmy!"
"Lor!" replied his fair compannion, with her favorite twist of
her favorite joints. " I wish it was me, Britain."
"Wish what was you?"
"A-going to be married," said Clemency.
Benjamin took his pipe out of his mouth and laughed heartily.
"Yes! you're a likely subject for that!" he said. "Poor Clem!"
Clemency for her part laughed as heartily as he, and seemed as
much amused by the idea. " Yes," she assented, "I'm a likely
subject for that; an't I?"
" You'll never be married, you know," said Mr. Britain, resuming his pipe,.
"Don't you think I ever shall though!" said Clemency, in perfect good faith
Mr. Britain shook his head. " Not a chance of it!"
" Only think!" said Clemency. "Well!-I suppose you mean
to, Britain, one of these days; don't you?"
A question so abrupt, upon a subject so momentous, required
consideration. After blowing out a great cloud of smoke, and
looking at it with his head now on this side and now on that, as
if it were actually the question, and he were surveying it in
various aspects, Mr. Britain replied that he wasn't altogether
clear about it, but-ye-es-he thought he might come to that at
last.
" I wish her joy, whoever she may be!" cried Clemency.
" Oh, she'll have that," said Benjamin; "safe enough."
"But she wouldn't have led quite such a joyful life as she will
lead, and wouldn't have had quite such a sociable sort of a husband as she will have," said Clemency, spreading herself half




ï~~86C

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

over the table, and staring retrospectively at the candle, "if it
hadn't been for-not that I went to do it, for it was accidental, I
am sure-if it hadn't been for me; now would she, Britain?"
" Certainly not," returned Mr. Britain, by this time in that
high state of appreciation of his pipe, when a man can open his
mouth but a very little way for speaking purposes; and sitting
luxuriously immovable in his chair, can afford to turn only his
eyes toward a companion, and that very passively and gravely.
"Oh! I'm greatly beholden to you, you know, Clem."
" Lor how nice that is to think of!" said Clemency.
At the same time, bringing her thoughts as well as her sight to
bear upon the candle-grease, and becoming abruptly reminiscent
of its healing qualities as a balsam, she anointed her left elbow
with a plentiful application of that remedy.
"You see I've made a good many investigations of one sort and
another in my time," pursued Mr. Britain, with the profundity of
a sage; "having been always of an inquiring turn of mind; and
I've read a good many books about the general Rights of things
and Wrongs of things, for I went into the literary line myself,
when I began life."
"Did you though!" cried the admiring Clemency.
" Yes," said Mr. Britain; " I was hid for the best part of two
years behind a bookstall, ready to fly out if any body pocketed a
volume; and after that I was light porter to a stay and mantua
maker, in which capacity I was employed to carry about, in oilskin baskets, nothing but deceptions-which soured my spirits and
disturbed my confidence in human nature: and after that, I heard
a world of discussions in this house, which soured my spirits fresh;
and my opinion after all is, that, as a safe and comfortable sweetener of the same, and as a pleasant guide through life, there's
nothing like a nutmeg-grater."
Clemency was about to offer a suggestion, but he stopped her
by anticipating it.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

31

" Com-bined," he added gravely, " with a thimble."
" Do as you would, you know, and cetrer, eh!" observed Clemency, folding her arms comfortably in her delight at this avowal,
and patting her elbows. " Such a short cut, an't it!"
" I'm not sure," said Mr. Britain, " that it's what would be
considered good philosophy. I've my doubts about that: but it
wears well, and saves a quantity of snarling, which the genuine
article don't always."
" See how you used to go on once, yourself, you know!" said
Clemency.
" Ah!" said Mr. Britain. "But the most extraordinary thing,
Clemmy, is that I should live to be brought round, through you.
That's the strange part of it. Through you! Why, I suppose
you haven't so much as half an idea in your head."
Clemency, without taking the least offense, shook it, and laughed, and hugged herself, and said, " No, she didn't suppose she
had."
"I'm pretty sure of it," said Mr. Britain.
" Oh! I dare say you're right," said Clemency. " I don't pretend to none. I don't want any."
Benjamin took his pipe from his lips, and laughed till the tears
ran down his face. "What a natural you are, Clemmy!" he said,
shaking his head, with an infinite relish of the joke, and wiping
his eyes. Clemency, without the smallest inclination to dispute
it. did the like, and laughed as heart-ily as he.
" But I can't help liking you," said Mr. Britain; "you're a regular good creature in your way; so shake hands, Clem. Whatever
happens, I'll always take notice of you, and be a friend to you."
"Will you?" returned Clemency. "Well! that's very good of
you."
" Yes, yes," said Mr. Britain, giving her his pipe to knock the
ashes out of; "I'll stand by you. Hark! That's a curious noise!"
"Noise '" repeated Clemency.




ï~~362

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"A footstep outside. Somebody dropping from the wall, it
sounded like," said Britain. "Are they all a-bed up-stairs?"
"Yes, all a-bed by this time," she replied.
"Didn't you hear any thing?"
" No."
They both listened, but heard nothing.
"I tell you what," said Benjamin, taking down a lantern.
"I'll have a look round before I go to bed myself, for satisfaction's
sake. Undo the door while I light this, Clemmy."
Clemency complied briskly; but observed as she did so, that
he would only have his walk for his pains, that it was all his
fancy, and so forth. Mr. Britain said 'very likely;' but sallied
out, nevertheless, armed with the poker, and casting the light of
the lantern far and near in all directions.
" It's as quiet as a church-yard," said Clemency, looking after
him; " and almost as ghostly too!"
Glancing back into the kitchen, she cried fearfully, as a light
figure stole into her view, " What's that!"
"Hush!" said Marion, in an agitated whisper. " You have
always loved me, have you not!"
" Loved you, child! You may be sure I have."
"I am sure. And I may trust you, may I not?     There is no
one else just now, in whom I can trust."
"Yes," said Clemency with all her heart.
"There is some one out there," pointing to the door, "whom I
must see, and speak with to-night. Michael Warden, for God's
sake retire! Not now!"
Clemency started with surprise and trouble as, following the
direction of the speaker's eyes, she saw a dark figure standing in
the doorway.
"In another moment you may be discovered," said Marion.
"Not now! Wait, if you can, in some concealment. I will coma
presently."




ï~~THIE BATTLE OF LIFE.

03

He waved his hand to her, and was gone.
" Don't go to bed. Wait here for me!" said Marion hurriedly.
"I have been seeking to speak to you for an hour past. Oh, be
true to me!"
Eagerly seizing her bewildered hand, and pressing it with both
her own to her breast-an action more expressive, in its passionl
of entreaty, than the most eloquent appeal in words-Marion
withdrew, as the light of the returning lantern flashed into the
room.
" All still and peaceable. Nobody there. Fancy, I suppose,"
said Mr. Britain, as he locked and barred the door. " One of the
effects of having a lively imagination. Halloa! Why, what's
the matter?"
Clemency, who could not conceal the effects of her surprise and
concern, was sitting in a chair: pale, and trembling from head to
foot.
" Matter!" she repeated, chafing her hands and elbows, nervously, and looking anywhere but at him. " That's good in you,
Britain, that is! After going and frightening one out of one's life
with noises, and lanterns, and I don't know what all. Matter!
Oh, yes."
" If you're frightened out of your life by a lantern, Clemmy,"
said Mr. Britain, composedly blowing it out and hanging it up
again, " that apparition's very soon got rid of. But you're as bold
as brass in general," he said, stopping to observe her; " and were,
after the noise and the lantern too. What have you taken into
your head? Not an idea, eh?"
But as Clemency bade him good-night very much after her
usual fashion, and began to bustle about with a show of going to
bed herself immediately, Little Britain, after giving utterance to
the original remark that it was impossible to account for a woman's whims, bade her good-night in return, and taking up his
candle strolled drowsily away to bed.




ï~~864

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

When all was quiet, Marion returned.
" Open the the door," she said, " and stand there close beside
me, while I speak to him outside."
Timid as her manner was, it still evinced a resolute and settled
purpose, such as Clemency could not resist. She softly unbarred
the door: but before turning the key, looked round on the young
creature waiting to issue forth when she should open it.
The face was not averted or cast down, but looking full upon
her, in its pride of youth and beauty. Some simple sense of the
slightness of the barrier that interposed itself between the happy
home and honored love of the fair girl, and what might be the
desolation of that home, and shipwreck of its dearest treasure,
smote so keenly on the tender heart of Clemency, and so filled it
to overflowing with sorrow and compassion, that, bursting into
tears, she threw her arms round Marion's neck.
"It's little that I know, my dear," cried Clemency, "very
little; but I know that this should not be. Think of what you
do!
" I have thought of it many times," said Marion, gently.
" Once more," urged Clemency. " Till to-morrow."
Marion shook her head.
" For Mr. Alfred's sake," said Clemency, with homely earnestness. " Him that you used to love so dearly, once!"
She hid her face, upon the instant, in her hands, repeating,
" Once!" as if it rent her heart.
"Let me go out," said Clemency, soothing her. "I'll tell him
what you like. Don't cross the door-step to-night. I'm sure no
good will come of it. Oh, it was an unhappy day when Mr.
Warden was ever brought here! Think of your good father,
larling: of your sister."
" I have," said Marion, hastily raising her head. "You dont
snow what I do. You don't know what I do. I must speak to
im. You are the best and truest friend in all bthe world for what




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

365

you have said to me, but I must take this step. Will you go with
me, Clemency," she kissed her on her friendly face, " or shall I
go alone?"
Sorrowing and wondering, Clemency turned the key, and
opened the door. Into the dark and doubtful night that lay
beyond the threshold, Marion passed quickly, holding by her
hand.
In the dark night he joined her, and they spoke together earnestly and long: and the hand that held so fast by Clemency's,
now trembled, now turned deadly cold, now clasped and closed on
hers, in strong feeling of the speech it emphasised unconsciously.
When they returned, he followed to the door; and pausing there
a moment, seized the other hand and pressed it to his lips. Then
stealthily withdrew.
The door was barred and locked again, and once again she
stood beneath her father's roof. Not bowed down by the secret
that she brought there, though so young; but with that same expression on her face, for which I had no name before, and shining
through her tears.
Again she thanked and thanked her humble friend, and trusted
to her, as she said, with confidence, implicitly. Her chamber
safely reached, she fell upon her knees; and with her secret
weighing on her heart, could pray!
Could rise up from her prayers, so tranquil and serene, and
bending over her fond sister in her slumber, look upon her face
and smile: though sadly: murmuring as she kissed her forehead,
how that Grace had been a mother to her, ever, and she loved
her as a child!
Could draw the passive arm about her neck when lying down
to rest-it seemed to cling there, of its own will, protectingly and
tenderly even in sleep-and breathe upon the parted lips, God
bless her!
Could sink into peaceful sleep, herself; but for one dream, in




ï~~366

CIHRISTMAS STORIES.

wnich she cried out, in her innocent and touching voice, that she
was quite alone, and they had all forgotten her.
A month soon passes, even at its tardiest pace. The month
appointed to elapse between that night and the return, was quick
of foot, and weft by like a vapor.
The day arrived. A raging winter day, that shook the old
house, sometimes, as if it shivered in the blast. A day to make
home doubly home. To give the chimney corner new delights.
To shed a ruddier glow upon the faces gathered round the hearth;
and draw each fireside group into a closer and more social league,
against the roaring elements without. Such a wild winter day
as best prepares the way for shut-out night; for curtained rooms,
and cheerful looks; for music, laughter, dancing, light and jovial
entertainment!
All these the Doctor had in store to welcome Alfred back.
They knew that he could not arrive till night; and they would
make the night air ring, he said, as he approached. All his old
friends should congregate about him. He should not nriss a face
that he had known and liked. No! They should every one be
there!
So, guests were bidden, and musicians were engaged, and tables
spread, and floors prepared for active feet, and bountiful provision
made, of every hospitable kind. Because it was the Christmas
season, and his eyes were all unused to English holly, and its
sturdy green, the dancing room was garlanded and hung with it;
and the red berries gleamed an English welcome to him, peeping
from among the leaves.
It was a busy day for all of them: a busier day for none of
them than Grace, who noiselessly presided every where, and was
the cheerful mind of all the preparations. Many a time that day
(as well as many a tirae within the fleeting month preceding it),
did Clemency glance anxiously, and almost fearfully, at Marion.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

367

Sne saw her paler, perhaps, than usual; but there was a sweet
composure on her face that made it lovelier than ever.
At night when she was dressed, and wore upon her head a
wreath that Grace had proudly twined about it-its mimic flowers
were Alfred's favorites, as Grace remembered when she chose
them-that old expression, pensive, almost sorrowful, and yet so
spiritual, high, and stirring, sat again upon her brow, enhanced
a hundred fold.
"The next wreath I adjust on this fair head, will be a marriage wreath," said Grace; "or I am no true prophet, dear."
Her sister smiled, and held her in her arms.
"A moment, Grace. Don't leave me yet. Are you sure that
I want nothing more?"
Her care was not for that. It was her sister's face she thought
of, and her eyes were fixed upon it, tenderly.
" My art," said Grace, "can go no farther, dear girl; nor your
beauty. I never saw you look so beautiful as now."
"I never was so happy," she returned.
"Ay; but there is greater happiness in store. In such another
home, as cheerful and as bright as this looks now," said Grace,
"Alfred and his young wife will soon be living."
She smiled again. " It is a happy home, Grace, in your fancy
I can see it in your eyes. I know it will be happy dear. How
glad I am to know it."
" Well," cried the Doctor, bustling in.   "Here we are, all
ready for Alfred, eh?  He can't be here until pretty late-an
hour or so before midnight-so there'll be plenty of time for making merry before he comes. He'll not find us with the ice unbro.
ken. Pile up the fire here, Britain! Let it shine upon the holly
till it winks again. It's a world of nonsense, Puss; true lovers
and all the rest of it-all nonsense; but we'll be nonsensical with
the rest of 'em, and give our true lover a mad welcome. Upon
my word!" said the old Doctor, looking at his daughters proudly,




ï~~868

CHRIISTMAS STORIES.

" I'm not clear to night, among other absurdities, but that I'm the
father of two handsome girls."
"All that one of them has ever done, or may do-may do,
dearest father-to cause you pain or grief, forgive her," said Marion, "forgive her now, when her heart is full. Say that you forgive her. That you will forgive her. That she shall always
share your love, and-," and the rest was not said, for her face
was hidden on the old man's shoulder.
"Tut, tut, tut," said the Doctor, gently, "Forgive! What have
I to forgive? Heyday, if our true lovers come back to flurry us
like this, we must hold 'em at a distance; we must send expresses
out to stop 'em short upon the road, and bring 'em on a mile or
two a day, until we're properly prepared to meet 'em. Kiss me,
Puss. Forgive! Why, what a silly child you are. If you had
vexed and crossed me fifty times a day, instead of not at all, I'd
forgive you every thing, but such a supplication. Kiss me again
Puss. There! Prospective and retrospective-a clear score be
tween us. Pile on the fire here! Would you freeze the people or
this bleak December night! Let us be light, and warm, and
merry, or I'll not forgive some of you!"
So gayly the old Doctor carried it! And the fire was piled up
and the lights were bright, and company arrived, and a murmuring of lively tongues began, and already there was a pleasant air
of cheerful excitement stirring through all the house.
More and more company came flocking in. Bright eyes spark
led upon Marion; smiling lips gave her joy of his return; sage
mothers fanned themselves, and hoped she mightn't be too youthful and inconstant for the quiet round of home; impetuous fathers
fell intc disgrace, for too much exaltation of her beauty; daughters,
envied her; sons envied him; innumerable pairs of lovers profited
by the occasion; all were interested, animated, and expectant.
Mr. and Mrs. Craggs came arm in arm, but Mrs. Snitchey came
alone. " Why, what's become of him?" inquired the Doctor




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

369

The feather of a Bird of Paradise in Mrs. Snitchey's turban
trembled as if the Bird of Paradise were alive again, when she said
that doubtless Mr. Craggs knew. She was never told.
"That nasty office," said Mrs. Craggs.
"I wish it was burnt down," said Mrs. Snitchey.
"He's-he's-there's a little matter of business that keeps my
partner rather late," said Mr. Craggs, looking uneasily about him.
"Oh-h! Business. Don't tell me!" said Mrs. Snitchey.
" We know what business means," said Mrs. Craggs.
But their not knowing what it meant, was perhaps the reason
why Mrs. Snitchey's Bird of Paradise feather quivered so portentously, and all the pendant bits on Mrs. Craggs's ear-rings shook
like little bells.
"I wonder you could come away, Mr. Craggs," said his wife.
"Mr. Craggs is fortunate, I'm sure!" said Mrs. Snitchey.
"That office so engrosses 'em," said Mrs. Craggs.
"A person with an office has no business to be married at all,"
said Mrs. Snitchey.
Then Mrs. Snitchey said within herself, that that look of
hers had pierced to Craggs's soul, and he knew it: and Mrs.
Craggs observed, to Craggs, that "his Snitcheys" were deceiving him behind his back, and he would find it out when it was
too late.
Still Mr. Craggs, without much heeding these remarks, lookea
uneasily about him until his eye rested on Grace, to whom he im
mediately presented himself.
" Good-evening, Ma'am," said Oraggs. " You look charmingly.
Your-Miss-your sister, Miss Marion, is she-"
"Oh, she's quite well, Mr. Craggs."
" Yes-I-is she here?" asked Craggs.
"Here! Don't you see her yonder?   Going to dance?" said
Grace.
Mr. Craggs put on his spectacles to see the better; looked at
23




ï~~370

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

her through them, for some time; coughed; and put them with
an air of satisfaction, in their sheath again, and in his pocket.
Now the music" struck up, and the dance commenced. The
bright fire crackled and sparkled, rose and fell, as though it joined
the dance itself, in right good fellowship. Sometimes it roared as
if it would make music too. Sometimes it flashed and beamed as
ii it were the eye of the old room; it winked too, sometimes, like
a knowing patriarch, upon the youthful whisperers in corners.
Sometimes it sported with the holly-boughs; and, shining on the
leaves by fits and starts, made them look as if they were in the
cold winter night again, and fluttering in the wind. Sometimes
its genial humor grew obstreperous, and passed all bounds; and
then it cast into the room, among the twinkling feet, with a loud
burst, a shower of harmless little sparks, and in its exultation
leaped and bounded, like a mad thing, up the broad old chimney.
Another dance was near its close, when Mr. Snitchey touched
his partner, who was looking on, upon the arm.
Mr. Craggs started, as if his familiar had been a spectre.
"Is he gone?" he asked.
"Hush! He has been with me," said Snitchey, " for three
hours and more. He went over every thing. He looked into all
our arrangements for him, and was very particular indeed. HeHumph!"
The dance was finished. Marion passed close before him, as he
spoke. She did not observe him, or his partner; but looked over
her shoulder toward her sister in the distance, as she slowly made
her way into the crowd, and passed out of their view.
"You see! All safe and well," said Mr. Craggs. "He didn't
recur to that subject, I suppose?"
" Not a word."
"And is he really gone? Is he safe away?"
SHe keeps to his word. He drops down the river with the
tide in that shell of a boat of his, and so goes out to sea on this




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

371

dark night-a dare-devil he is--before the wind. There's no
such lonely road any where else. That's one thing. The tide flows
he says, an hour before midnight about this time. I'm glad it's
over." Mr. Snitchey wiped his forehead, which looked hot and
anxious.
"What do you think," said Mr. Craggs, " about-"
" Hush!" replied his cautious partner, looking straight before
him. " I understand you. Don't mention names, and don't let
us seem to be talking secrets. I don't know what to think; and
to tell you the truth, I don't care now. It's a great relief. His
self-love deceived him, I suppose. Perhaps the young lady coqueted a little. The evidence would seem to point that way. Alfred
not arrived?"
"Not yet," said Mr. Craggs. " Expected every minute."
"Good."   Mr. Snitchey wiped his forehead again. " It's
great relief. I haven't been so nervous since we've been in part.
nership. I intend to spend the evening now, Mr. Craggs."
Mrs. Craggs and Mrs. Snitchey joined them as he announced
this intention. The Bird of Paradise was in a state of extreme
vibration; and the little bells were ringing quite audibly.
" It has been the theme of general comment, Mr. Snitchey,"
said Mrs. Snitchey. "I hope the office is satisfied."
"Satisfied with what, my dear?" asked Mr. Snitchey.
"With the exposure of a defenseless woman to ridicule and remark," returned his wife. " That is quite in the way of the office,
that is."
" I really, myself," said Mrs. Craggs, "have been so long accus
tomed to connect the office with every thing opposed to domesticity, that I am glad to know it as the avowed enemy of my peace
There is something honest in that, at all events."
" My dear," urged Mr. Craggs, "your good opinion is invaluaLle, but I never avowed that the office was the enemy of your
peace."




ï~~t72

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" No," said Mrs. Craggs, ringing a perfect peal upon the little
bells. " Not you, indeed. You wouldn't be worthy of the office,
if you had the candor to."
" As to my having been away to-night, my dear," said Mr.
Snitchey, giving her his arm, "the deprivation has been mine,
I'm sure; but, as Mr. Craggs knows-"
Mrs. Snitchey cut this reference very short by hitching her husband to a distance, and asking him to look at that man. To do
her the favor to look at him.
"At which man, my dear?" said Mr. Snitchey.
"Your chosen companion; I'm no companion to you, Mr.
Snitchey.
"Yes, yes, you are, my dear," he interposed.
"No, no, I'm not," said Mrs. Snitchey with a majestic smile.
"I know my station. Will you look at your chosen companion,
Mr. Snitchey; at your referee; at the keeper of your secrets; at
the man you trust; at your other self, in short."
The habitual association of Self with Craggs, caused Mr. Snitchey to look in that direction.
" If you can look that man in the eye this night," said Mrs.
Snitchey, " and not know that you are deluded, practiced upon;
made the victim of his arts, and bent down prostrate to his will,
by some unaccountable fascination which it is impossible to explain, and against which no warning of mine is of the least avail:
all I can say is-I pity you."
At the very same moment Mrs. Craggs was oracular on the cross
subject. Was it possible she said, that Craggs could so blind him.
self to his Snitcheys as not to feel his true position. Did he mean
to say that he had seen his Snitcheys come into that room, and
didn't plainly see that there was reservation, cunning, treachery
in the man? Would he tell her that his very action, when he
wiped his forehead and looked so stealthily about him, didn't show
that there was something weighing on the conscience of his pre.




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

373

cious Snitcheys (if he had a conscience), that wouldn't bear the
light. Did any body but his Snitcheys come to festive entertainments like a burglar?-which, by the way, was hardly a clear
illustration of the case, as he had walked in very mildly at the
door. And would he still assert to her at noon-day (it being nearly
midnight), that his Snitcheys were to be justified through thick
and thin, against all facts, and reason, and experience?
Neither Snitchey nor Craggs openly attempted to stem the current which had thus set in, but both were content to be carried
gently along it, until its force abated; which happened at about
the same time as a general movement for a country dance; when
Mrs. Snitchey proposed himself as a partner to Mrs. Craggs, and
Mr. Craggs gallantly offered himself to Mrs. Snitchey; and after
some such slight evasions as, " Why don't you ask somebody else?"
and "You'll be glad, I know, if I decline," and " I wonder you can
dance out of the office" (but this jocosely now), each lady graciously
accepted, and took her place.
It was an old custom among them, indeed, to do so, and to pair
off, in like manner, at dinners and suppers; for they were excellent friends, and on a footing of easy familiarity. Perhaps the false
Craggs and the wicked Snitchey were a recognized fiction with
the two wives, as Doe and Roe, incessantly running up and down
bailiwicks, were with the two husbands: or perhaps the ladies had
nstituted, and taken upon themselves, these two shares in the
business, rather than be left out of it altogether. But certain it
is, that each wife went as gravely and steadily to work in her
vocation as her husband did in his: and would have considered it
almost impossible for the Firm to maintain a successful and respectable existence, without her laudable exertions.
But now the Bird of Paradise was seen to flutter down the
middle; and the little bells began to bounce and jingle in poussette; and the Doctor's rosy face spun round and round, like an
expressive peg-top highly varnished; and breathless Mr. Craggs




ï~~874

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

began to doubt already, whether country dancing had been m ide
"too easy," like the rest of life; and Mr. Snitchey, with his nimble
cuts and capers, footed it for Self, and Craggs, and half a dozen
more.
Now, too, the fire took fresh courage, favored by the lively
wind the dance awakened, and burnt clear and high. It was the
Genius of the room, and present every where. It shone in people's
eyes, it sparkled in the jewels on the snowy necks of girls, it
twinkled at their ears as if it whispered to them slyly, it flashed
about their waists, it flickered on the ground and made it rosy
for their feet, it bloomed upon the ceiling that its glow might set
off their bright faces, and it kindled up a general illumination in
Mrs. Craggs's little belfry.
Now, too, the lively air that fanned it, grew less gentle as the
music quickened and the dance proceeded with new spirit; and a
breeze arose that made the leaves and berries dance upon the
wall, as they had often done upon the trees; and rustled in the
room as it' an invisible company of fairies, treading in the footsteps
of the good substantial revelers, were whirling after them. Now,
too, no feature of the Doctor's face could be distinguished as he
spun and spun; and now there seemed a dozen Birds of Paradise
in fitful flight; and now there were a thousand little bells at
work; and now a fleet of flying skirts was ruffled by a little
tempest; when the music gave in, and the dance was over.
Hot and breathless as the Doctor was, it only made him the
more impatient for Alfred's coming.
"Any thing been seen, Britain? Any thing been heard?"
"Too dark to see far, Sir. Too much noise inside the house to
hear."
"That's right! The gayer welcome for him. How goes the
time?"
"Just twelve, sir. He can't be long, Sir."
" Stir up the fire, and throw another log upon it," said the




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

375

Doctor. "Let him see his welcome blazing out upon the nightgood boy!-as he comes along!"
He saw it-Yes! From the chaise he caught the light, as he
turned the corner by the old church. He knew the room from
which it shone. He saw the wintry branches of the old trees
between the light and him. He knew that one of those trees
rustled musically in the summer time at the window of Marion's
chamber.
The tears were in his eyes. His heart throbbed so violently
that he could hardly bear his happiness. How often he had
thought of this time-pictured it under all circumstances-feared
that it might never come-yearned, and wearied for it-far away!
Again the light! Distinct and ruddy; kindled, he knew, to
give him welcome, and to speed him home. He beckoned with
his hand, and waved his hat, and cheered out, loud, as if the
light were they, and they could see and hear him, as he dashed
toward them through the mud and mire, triumphantly.
"Stop!"  He knew the Doctor, and understood what he had
done. He would not let it be a surprise to them. But he could
make it one, yet, by going forward on foot. If the orchard gate
were open, he could enter there; if not, the wall was easily
climbed as he knew of old; and he would be among them in an
instant.
He dismounted from the chaise, and telling the driver--even
that was not easy in his agitation-to remain behind for a few
minutes, and then to follow slowly, ran on with exceeding swiftness, tried the gate, scaled the wall, jumped down on the other
side, and stood panting in the old orchard.
There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint
light of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller branches like
dead garlands. Withered leaves crackled and snapped beneath his
feet, as he crept softly on toward the house. The desolation of a
winter night sat brooding on the earth, and in the sky. But the




ï~~876

CHRIISTMAS STORIES.

red light came cheerily toward him from the windows; figures
passed and repassed there: and the hum and murmur of voices
greeted his ear, sweetly.
Listening for hers: attempting, as he crept on, to detach it
from the rest, and half-believing that he heard it: he had nearly
reached the door, when it was abruptly opened, and a figure
coming out encountered his. It instantly recoiled with a halfsuppressed cry.
" Clemency," he said, "don't you know me?"
"Don't come in," she answered, pushing him back.    "Go0
away. Don't ask me why. Don't come in."
"What is the matter?" he exclaimed.
"I don't know. I-I am afraid to think. Go back. Hark '.!"
There was a sudden tumult in the house. She put her hands
upon her ears. A wild scream, such as no hands could shut out,
was heard; and Grace-distraction in her looks and mannerrushed out at the door.
"Grace!"  He caught her in his arms. "What is it! Is she
dead?"
She disengaged herself, as if to recognize his face, and fell down
at his feet.
A crowd of figures came about them from the house. Among
them was her father, with a paper in his hand.
"What is it?" cried Alfred, grasping his hair with his hands,
and looking in an agony from face to face, as he bent upon his knee,
beside the insensible girl. "Will no one look at me? Will no
one speak to me? Does no one know me?      Is there no voice
among you all, to tell me what it is?"
There was a murmur among them. "She is gone."
"Gone!" he echoed.
"Fled, my dear Alfred!" said the Doctor, in a broken voice
and with his hands before his face. "Gone from her home and
us. To-night' She writes that she has made her innocent and




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

877

blame less choice-entreats that we will forgive her-prays that
we will not forget her-and is gone."
"With whom?    Where?"
He started up as if to follow in pursuit, but when they gave
way to let him pass, looked wildly round upon them, staggered
back, and sunk down in his former attitude, clasping one of Grace's
cold hands in his own.
There was a hurried running to and fro, confusion, noise, disorder, and no purpose. Some proceeded to disperse themselves
about the roads, and some took horse, and some got lights, and
some conversed together, urging that there was no trace or track
to follow. Some approached him kindly, with the view of offering consolation; some admonished him that Grace must be removed into the house, and he prevented it. He never heard
them, and he never moved.
The snow fell fast and thick. He looked up for a moment in
the air, and thought that those white ashes strewn upon his hopes
and misery were suited to them well. He looked round on the
whitening ground, and thought how Marion's foot-prints would be
hushed and covered up as soon as made, and even that remembrance of her blotted out. But he never felt the weather, and ho
never stirred.




ï~~PART THE THIRD.

THE world had grown six years older since that night of the return. It was a warm autumn afternoon, and there had been
heavy rain. The sun burst suddenly from among the clouds: and
the old battle-ground, sparkling brilliantly and cheerfully at sight
of it in one green place, flashed a responsive welcome there, which
spread along the country side as if a joyful beacon had been lighted
up, and answered from a thousand stations.
How beautiful the landscape kindling in the light, and that
luxuriant influence passing on like a celestial presence, brightening every thing! The wood, a sombre mass before, revealed its
varied tints of yellow, green, brown, red; its different forms of
trees, with raindrops glittering on their leaves and twinkling as
they fell. The verdant meadow-land, bright and glowing, seemed
as if it had been blind a minute since, and now had found a sense
of sight wherewith to look up at the shining sky. Corn-fields,
hedge-rows, fences, homesteads, the clustered roofs, the steeple of
the church, the stream, the watermill, all sprung out of the gloomy
darkness, smiling. Birds sang sweetly, flowers raised their drooping heads, fresh scents arose from the invigorated ground; the
blue expanse above extended and diffused itself; already the sun's
slanting rays pierced mortally the sullen bank of cloud that lingered in its flight; and a rainbow, spirit of all the colors that adorned the earth and sky, spanned the whole arch with its triumphant
glory.
At such a time, one little roadside Inn, snugly sheltered behind
a great elm-tree with a rare seat for idlers encircling its capacious
878




ï~~THE BATTLE OF' LIFE.

379

bole, addressed a cheerful front toward the traveler, as a house
of entertainment ought, and tempted him with many mute but
sigmnificant assurances of a comfortable welcome. The ruddy signboard perched up in the tree, with its golden letters winking in
the sun, ogled the passer-by from among the green leaves, like a
jolly face, and promised good cheer. The horse-trough, fhll of
clear fresh water, and the ground below it, sprinkled with droppings of fragrant hay, made every horse that passed prick up his
ears. The crimson curtains in the lower rooms, and the pure
white hangings in the little bed-chambers above, beckoned, Come
in! with every breath of air. Upon the bright green shutters,
there were golden legends about beer and ale, and neat wines,
and good beds; and an affecting picture of a brown jug frothing
over at the top. Upon the window-sills were flowering plants in
bright red pots, which made a lively show against the white front
of the house; and in the darkness of the doorway there were
streaks of light, which glanced off from the surfaces of bottles
and tankards.
On a door-step, appeared the proper figure of a landlord, too,
for though he was a short man, he was round and broad; and
stood with his hands in his pockets, and his legs just wide enough
apart to express a mind at rest upon the subject of the cellar, and
an easy confidence-too calm and virtuous to become a swaggerin the general resources of the Inn. The superabundant moisture
trickling from every thing after the late rain, set him off well.
Nothing near him   was thirsty. Certain top-heavy dahlias
looking over the palings of his neat well-ordered garden, had
swilled as much as they could carry-perhaps a trifle more- and
may have been the worse for liquor; but the sweet-briar, roses,
wall-flowers, the plants at the windows, and the leaves on the old
tree were in the beaming state of moderate company that had
taken no more than was wholesome for them, and had served to
develop their best qualities. Sprinkling dewy drops about them




ï~~880

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

on the ground, tney seemed profuse of innocent and sparkhling rmrth,
that did good where it lighted, softening neglected corners which
the steady rain could seldom reach, and hurting nothing.
This village Inn had assumed, on being established, an uncommon sign. It was called The Nutmeg Grater. And underneath
that household word, was inscribed, up in the tree, on the same
flaming board, and in the like golden characters, By Benjamin
Britain.
At a second glance, and on a more minute examination of his
face, you might have known that it was no other than Benjamin
Britain himself who stood in the doorway-reasonably changed
by time, but for the better; a very comfortable host indeed.
"Mrs. B," said Mr. Britain, looking down the road, "is rather
late. It's tea time."
As there was no Mrs. Britain coming, he strolled leisurely out
into the road and looked up at the house, very much to his satisfaction. "It's just the sort of house," said Benjamin, "I should
wish to stop at, if I didn't keep it."
Then he strolled toward the garden paling and took a look at
the dahlias. They looked over at him, with a helpless, drowsy
hanging of their heads: which bobbed again, as the heavy drops
of wet dripped off them.
"You must be looked after," said Benjamin. "Memorandum,
not to forget to tell her so. She's a long time coming!"
Mr. Britain's better half seemed to be by so very much his
better half, that his own moiety of himself was utterly cast away
and helpless without her.
"She hadn't much to do, I think," said Ben. "There were a
few little matters of business after market, but not many. Oh!
here we are at last!"
A chaise-cart, driven by a boy, came clattering along the road:
and seated in it, in a chair, with a large well-saturated umbrella
spread out to dry behind her. was the plump figure of a matronly




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

881,roman, with her bare arms folded across a basket which she
carried on her knee, several other baskets and parcels lying crowded about her, and a certain bright good-nature in her face and
contented awkwardness in her manner, as she jogged to and fro
with the motion of her carriage, which smacked of old times even
in the distance. Upon her nearer approach, this relich of bygone
days was not diminished; and when the cart stopped at the Nutmeg Grater door, a pair of shoes, alighting from it, slipped nimbly
through Mr. Britain's open arms, and came down with a substantial weight upon the pathway, which shoes could hardly have
belonged to any one but Clemency Newcome.
In fact they did belong to her, and she stood in them, and a
rosy comfortable-looking soul she was: with as much soap on her
glossy face as in times of yore, but with whole elbows now, that
had grown quite dimpled in her improved condition.
"You're late, Clemmy!" said Mr. Britain.
"Why, you see, Ben, I've had a deal to do!" she replied, looking busily after the safe removal into the house of all the packages and baskets; "eight, nine, ten-where's eleven?  Oh! my
baskets, eleven! It's all right. Put the horse up, Harry, and if
he coughs again give him a warm mash to-night. Eight, nine,
ten. Why, where's eleven?   Oh, I forgot, it's all right. How's
the children, Ben?"
"Hearty, Clemmy, hearty."
"Bless their precious faces!" said Mrs. Britain, unbonnetinmg
her own round countenance (for she and her husband were by this
time in the bar), and smoothing her hair with her open hands.
Give us a kiss, old man."
Mr. Britain promptly complied.
"I think," said Mrs. Britain, applying herself to her pockets
and drawing forth an immense bulk of thin books and crumpled
papers, a very kennel of dogs' ears: "I've done every thing.
Bills all settled-turnips sold-brewer's account looked into and




ï~~382

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

paid-'bacco pipes ordered-seventeen pound four paid into the
Bank-Doctor Heathfield's charge for little Clem-you'll guess
what that is-Doctor Heathfield won't take nothing again, Ben."
" I thought he wouldn't," returned Britain.
" No. He says whatever family you was to have, Ben, he'd
never put you to the cost of a half-penny. Not if you was to have
twenty."
Mr. Britain's face assumed a serious expression, and he looked
hard at the wall.
"An't it kind of him?" said Clemency.
"Very," returned Mr. Britain. " It's the sort of kindness that
I wouldn't presume upon, on any account."
"No," retorted Clemency. " Of course not. Then there's the
pony-he fetched eight pound two; and that an't bad, is it?"
" It's very good," said Ben.
"I'm glad you're pleased!" exclaimed his wife. "I thought
you would be; and I think that's all, and so no more at present
from yours and cetrer, C. Britain. Ha, ha, ha! There! Take
all the papers, and lock 'em. Oh! Wait a minute. Here's a
printed bill to stick on the wall. Wet from the printer's. How
nice it smells!"
" What's this?" said Ben, looking over the document.
"I don't know," replied his wife. "I haven't read a word of it."
"' To be sold by Auction,'" read the host of the Nutmeg Grater,
"' unless previously disposed of by private contract.' "
" They always put that," said Clemency.
" Yes, but they don't always put this," he returned. "Look
here, ' Mansion,' &c.-' offices,' &c., ' shrubberies,' &c., 'ring
fence,' &c.,' Messrs. Snitchey and Craggs,' &c.,' ornamental por
tion of the unencumbered freehold property of Michael Warden
Esquire, intending to continue to reside abroad!'"
'Intending to continue to reside abroad!" repeated Clemency.
' Here it is," said Mr. Britain. " Look!"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

883

1, And it was only this very day that I heard it whispered at
the old house, that better and plainer news had been half promised of her, soon!" said Clemency, shaking her head sorrowfully,
and patting her elbows as if the recollection of old times unconsciously awakened her old habits. "Dear, dear, dear! There'll
be heavy hearts, Ben, yonder."
Mr. Britain heaved a sigh, and shook his head, and said he
couldn't make it out: he had left off trying long ago. With that
remark, he applied himself to putting up the bill just inside the
bar window: and Clemency, after meditating in silence for a few
moments, roused herself, cleared her thoughtful brow, and bustled
clf' to look after the children.
Though the host of the Nutmeg Grater had a lively regard for
his good wife, it was of the old patronizing kind; and she amused
him mightily. Nothing would have astonished him so much, as
to have known for certain from any third party, that it was she
who managed the whole house, and made him, by her plain,
straightforward thrift, good-humor, honesty, and industry, a thriving man. So easy it is, in any degree of life (as the world very
often finds it), to take those cheerful natures that never assert
their merit, at their own modest valuation; and to conceive a
flippant liking of people for their outward oddities and eccentrici
ties, whose innate worth, if we would look so far, might make us
blush in the comparison!
It was comfortable to Mr. Britain, to think of his own condescension in having married Clemency. She was a perpetual testimony to him of the goodness of his heart, and the kindness of
his disposition; and he felt that her being an excellent wife was
an illustration of the old precept that virtue is its own reward.
He had finished wafering up the bill, and had locked the vouch-.
ers for her day's proceedings in the cupboard-chuckling all the
time, over her capacity for business-when, returning with the
news that the two Master Britains were playing min the coach



ï~~884

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

house, under the superintendence of one Betsey, and that little
Clem was sleeping "like a picture," she sat down to tea, which
had awaited her arrival, on a little table. It was a very neat
little bar, with the usual display of bottles and glasses; a sedate
clbk, right to the minute (it was half-past five); every thing in
its place, arn every thing furbished and polished up to the very
utmost.
"It's the first time I've sat down quietly to-day, I declare," said
Mrs. Britain, taking a long breath, as if she had sat down for the
night; but getting up again immediately to hand her husband
his tea, and cut him his bread-and-butter; "how that bill does
set me thinking of old times!"
"Ah!" said Mr. Britain, handling his saucer like an oyster, and
disposing of its contents on the same principle.
" That same Mr. Michael Warden," said Clemency, shaking
her head at the notice of sale, "lost me my old place."
"And got you your husband," said Mr. Britain.
"Well! So he did," retorted Clemency, " and many thanks
to him."
"Man's the creature of habit," said Mr. Britain, surveying her
over his saucer. "I had somehow got used to you, Clem; and I
found I shouldn't be able to get on without you. So we went and
got made man and wife. Ha, ha! We! Who'd have thought
it!"
"Who indeed!" cried Clemency. "It was very good of you,
Ben."
"No, no, no," replied Mr. Britain, with an air of self-denial.
"Nothing worth mentioning."
"Oh, yes, it was, Ben," said his wife, with great simplicity;
" I'm sure I think so; and am very much obliged to you. Ah!"
looking again at the bill; " when she was known to be gone, and
out of reach, dear girl, I couldn't help telling-for her sake quite
as much as theirs-what I knew, could I?"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

885

"You told it, any how," observed her husband.
"And Doctor Jeddler," pursued Clemency, putting down her
tea-cup, and looking thoughtfully at the bill, "in his grief and
passion, turned me out of house and home! I never have been
so glad of any thing in all my life, as that I didn't say an angry
word to him, and hadn't an angry feeling toward him, even then;
for he repented that truly, afterward. How often he has sat in
this room, and told me over and over again, he was sorry for it!the last time, only yesterday, when you were out. How often he
has sat in this room, and talked to me, hour after hour, about one
thing and another, in which he made believe to be interested!but only for the sake of the days that are gone away, and because
he knows she used to like me, Ben!"
"Why, how did you ever come to catch a glimpse of that.
Clem?" asked her husband: astonished that she should have a
distinct perception of a truth which had only dimly suggested itself to his inquiring mind.
" I don't know, I'm sure," said Clemency, blowing her tea, to
cool it. "Bless you, I couldn't tell you if you was to offer me a
reward of a hundred pound."
He might have pursued this metaphysical subject but for her
catching a glimpse of a substantial fact behind him, in the shape
of a gentleman attired in mourning, and cloaked and booted like
a rider on horseback, who stood at the bar-door. He seemed attentive to their conversation, and not at all impatient to interrupt
it.
Clemency hastily rose at this sight. Mr. Britain also rose and
saluted the guest. "Will you please to walk up stairs, Sir?
There's a very nice room up stairs, Sir."
"Thank you," said the stranger, looking earnestly at Mr. Britain's wife. " May I come in here?"
"Oh, surely, if you like, Sir," returned Clemency, admitting
him. "What would you please to want, Sir?"
24




ï~~386

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

The bill had caught his eye, and he was reading it.
"Excellent property that, Sir," observed Mr. Britain.
He made no answer; but turning round, when he had finished
reading, looked at Clemency with the same observant curiosity as
before. "You were asking me," he said, still looking at her"What you would please to take, Sir," answered Clemency,
stealing a glance at him in return.
"If you will let me have a draught of ale," he said, moving to
a table by the window, "and will let me have it here, without
being any interruption to your meal, I shall be much obliged to
you."
He sat down as he spoke, without any further parley, and looked out at the prospect. He was an easy well-knit figure of a man
in the prime of life. His face, much browned by the sun, was
shaded by a quantity of dark hair; and he wore a mustache. His
beer being set before him, he filled out a glass, and drank, goodhumoredly, to the house; adding, as he put the tumbler down
again.
"It's a new house, is it not?"
"Not particularly new, Sir," replied Mr. Britain.
"Between five and six years old," said Clemency: speaking
very distinctly.
"I think I heard you mention Doctor Jeddler's name, as I came
in," inquired the stranger. " That bill reminds me of him; for
I happen to know something of that story, by hearsay, and through
certain connections of mine. Is the old man living?"
"Yes, he's living Sir," said Clemency.
Â~ Much changed?"
"Since when, Sir?" returned Clemency, with remarkable emphasis and expression.
"Since his daughter-went away."
"Yes! he's greatly changed since then," said Clemency. "He's
gpay and old, and hasn't the same way with him at all: but I




ï~~THE  BATTLE  OF LIFE.

387

think he's happy now. He has taken on with his sister since
then, and goes to see her very often. That did him good, directly.
At first, hlie was sadly broken down; and it was enough to make
one's heart bleed, to see him wandering about, railing at the
wo ld; but a great change for the better came over him after a
year or two, and then he began to like to talk about his lost
daughter, and to praise her, ay, and the world too! and was never
tired of saying, with the tears in his poor eyes, how beautiful and
good she was. He had forgiven her then. That was about the
same time as Miss Grace's marriage. Britain, you remember?"
Mr. Britain remembered very well.
" The sister is married then," returned the stranger. He paus~d
for some time before he asked, " To whom?"
Clemency narrowly escaped oversetting the tea-board, in her
emotion at this question.
"Did you never hear?" she said.
" 1 should like to hear," he replied, as he filled his glass again,
and raised it to his lips.
"Ah! It would be a long story, if it was properly told," said
Clemency, resting her chin on the palm of her left hand, and supporting that elbow on her right hand, as she shook her head, and
looked back through the intervening years, as if she were looking
at a fire. " It would be a long story, I am sure."
"But told as a short one," suggested the stranger.
"Told as a short one," repeated Clemency in the same thoughtful tone, and without any apparent reference to him, or consciousness of having auditors, "what would there be to tell? That they
grieved together, and remembered her together, like a person dead;
that they were so tender of her, never would reproach her, called
her back to one another as she used to be, and found excuses for
her?  Every one knows that. I'm sure I do. No one better,"
added Clemency, wiping her eyes with her hand.
"And so," suggested the stranger.




ï~~888

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

"And so," said Clemency, taking him up mechanically, and
without any change in her attitude or manner, "they at last were
married. They were married on her birth-day-it comes round
again to-morrow-very quiet, very humble like, but very happy.
Mr. Alfred said, one night when they were walking in the orchard,
'Grace, shall our wedding-day be Marion's birth-day?' And it
was."
"And they have lived happily together?" said the stranger.
"Ay," said Clemency. " No two people ever more so. They
have had no sorrow but this."
She raised her head as with a sudden attention to the circumstances under which she was recalling these events, and looked
quickly at the stranger. Seeing that his face was turned toward
the window, and that he seemed intent upon the prospect, she
made some eager signs to her husband, and pointed to the bill,
and moved her mouth as if she were repeating with great energy
one word or phrase to him over and over again. As she uttered
no sound, and as her dumb motions, like most of her gestures,
were of a very extraordinary kind, this unintelligible conduct reduced Mr. Britain to the confines of despair. He stared at the
table, at the stranger, at the spoons, at his wife-followed her
pantomime with looks of deep amazement and perplexity-asked
in the same language, was it property in danger, was it he in
danger, was it she-answered her signals with other signals expressive of the deepest distress and confusion-followed the motions of her lips-guessed half aloud "milk and water," "monthly warning," "mice and walnuts"-and couldn't approach her
meaning.
Clemency gave it up at last, as a hopeless attempt; and moving her chair by very slow degrees a little nearer to the stranger,
sat with her eyes apparently cast down, but glancing sharply at
him now and then, waiting until he should ask some other question. She had not to wait long; for he said, presently,




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

389

"And what is the after history of the young lady who went
away? They know it, I suppose?"
Clemency shook her head.   " I've heard," she said, "that
Doctor Jeddler is thought to know more of it than he tells. Miss
Grace has had letters from her sister, saying that she was well
and happy, and made much happier by her being married to Mr.
Alfred: and has written letters back. But there's a mystery
about her life and fortunes, altogether, which nothing has cleared
up to this hour, and which-"
She faltered here, and stopped.
"And which-" repeated the stranger.
"Which only one other person, I believe, could explain," said
Clemency, drawing her breath quickly.
"Who may that be?" asked the stranger.
"Mr. Michael Warden!" answered Clemency, almost in a
shriek; at once conveying to her husband what she would have
had him understand before, and letting Michael Warden know
that he was recognized.
" You remember me, Sir," said Clemency, trembling with emotion; " I saw just now you did! You remember me that night
in the garden. I was with her."
"Yes. You were," he said.
" Yes, Sir," returned Clemency. "Yes, to be sure. This is
my husband, if you please. Ben, my dear Ben, run to Miss Grace
-run to Mr. Alfred-run somewhere, Ben!      Bring somebody
here directly!"
" Stay!" said Michael Warden, quietly interposing himself be.
tween the door and Britain. "What would you do?"
" Let them know that you are here, Sir," answered Clemency,
clapping her hands in sheer agitation. " Let them know that they
may hear of her, from your own lips; let them know that she is
not quite lost to them, but that she will come home again yet, to
bless her father and her loving sister-even her old servant, even




ï~~390

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

me," she struck herself upon the breast with both hands, "with
a sight of her sweet face. Run, Ben, run!"  And still she press.
ed him on toward the door, and still Mr. Warden stood before it,
with his hand stretched out, not angrily, but sorrowfully.
" Or perhaps," said Clemency, running past her husband, and
catching in her emotion at Mr. Warden's cloak, "perhaps she's
here now; perhaps she's close by. I think from your manner
she is. Let me see her, Sir, if you please. I waited on her when
she was a little child. I saw her grow to be the pride of all this
place. I knew her when she was Mr. Alfred's promised wife. I
tried to warn her when you tempted her away. I know what her
old home was when she was like the soul of it, and how it changed
when she was gone and lost. Let me speak to her, if you please!"
He gazed at her with compassion, not unmixed with wonder:
but he made no gesture of assent.
"I don't think she can know," pursued Clemency, " how truly
they forgive her; how they love her; what joy it would be to
them to see her once more. She may be timorous of going home.
Perhaps if she sees me, it may give her new heart. Only tell me
truly, Mr. Warden, is she with you?"
" She is not," he answered, shaking his head.
This answer, and his manner, and his black dress, and his
coming back so quietly, and his announced intention of continuing
to live abroad, explained it all. Marion was dead.
He didn't contradict her; yes, she was dead! Clemency sat
down, hid her face upon the table, and cried.
At that moment, a gray-headed old gentleman came running
in quite out of breath, and panting so much that his voice was
scarcely to be recognized as the voice of Mr. Snitchey.
"Good Heaven, Mr. Warden!" said the lawyer, taking him
aside, " what wind has blown-"  He was so blown himself that
he couldn't get on any further, antil after a pause, when he
added, feebly, "you here 7"




ï~~THEt BATTLE OF LIFE.

391

"An r,-wind, 1 am afraid," he answered. "If you could have
heard what has just passed-how I have been besought and entreated to perform impossibilities-what confusion and affliction I
carry with me!"
"I can guess it all. But why did you ever come here, my good
Sir!" retorted Snitchey.
" Come! How should I know who kept the house?   WYhen I
sent my servant on to you, I strolled in here, because the place
was new to me; and I had a natural curiosity in every thing new
and old, in these old scenes; and it was outside the town. I
wanted to communicate with you first, before appearing there. I
wanted to know what people would say to me. I see by your
manner that you can tell me. If it were not for your confounded
caution, I should have been possessed of every thing long ago."
"Our caution," returned the lawyer, " speaking for Self and
Craggs-deceased," here Mr. Snitchey, glancing at his hat-band,
shook his head: "how can you reasonably blame us, Mr. Warden?
It was understood between us that the subject was never to be
renewed, and that it wasn't a subject on which grave and sober
men like us (I made a note of your observations at the time) could
interfere?  Our caution too! when Mr. Craggs, Sir, went down to
his respected grave in the full belief-"
"I had given a solemn promise of silence until I should return,
whenever that might be," interrupted Mr. Warden; "and I have
kept it."
" Well, Sir, and I repeat it," returned Mr. Snitchey, " we were
bound to silence too. We were bound to silence in our duty toward ourselves, and in our duty toward a variety of clients, you
among them, who were as close as wax. It was not our place to
make inquiries of you on such a delicate subject. I had my suspicions, Sir; but it is not six months since I have known the truth,
and been assured that you lost her."
"By whom?" inquired his client.




ï~~892

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" By Doctor Jeddler himself, Sir, who at last reposed that con.
fidence in me voluntarily. He, and only he, has known the whole
truth, years and years."
"And you know it?" said his client.
"I do, Sir!" replied Snitchey; "and I have also reason to know
that it will be broken to her sister to-morrow evening. They
have given her that promise. In the mean time, perhaps you'll
give me the honor of your company at my house; being unexpected
at your own. But not to run the chance of any more such difficulties as you have had here, in case you should be recognizedthough you're a good deal changed-I think I might have passed
you myself, Mr. Warden-we had better dine here, and walk on
in the evening. It's a very good place to dine at, Mr. Warden:
your own property, by the by. Self and Craggs (deceased) took
a chop here sometimes, and had it very comfortably served. Mr.
Craggs, Sir," said Snitchey, shutting his eyes tight for an instant,
and opening them again, "was struck off the roll of life too
soon."
"Heaven forgive me for not condoling with you," returned
Michael Warden, passing his hand across his forehead, "but I'm
like a man in a dream at present. I seem to want my wits. Mr.
Craggs-yes-I am very sorry we have lost Mr. Craggs."    But
he looked at Clemency as he said it, and seemed to sympathize
with Ben, consoling her.
Mr. Craggs, Sir," observed Snitchey, " didn't find life, I regret
to say, as easy to have and to hold as his theory made it out, or
he would have been among us now. It's a great loss to me. He
was my right arm, my right leg, my right ear, my right eye, was
Mr. Craggs.   I am paralytic without him.   He bequeathed a
share of the business to Mrs. Craggs, her executors, admimnistrators, and assigns. His name remains in the Firm to this hour. I
try, in a childish sort of a way, to make believe, sometimes, that
he's alive. You may observe that I speak for Self and Craggs



ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

393

deceased, Sir-deceased," said the tender-hearted attorney, waving
his pocket-handkerchief.
Michael Warden, who had still been observant of Clemency,
turned to Mr. Snitchey, when he ceased to speak, and whispered
in his ear.
"Ah, poor thing!" said Snitchey, shaking his head. "Yes.
She was always very faithful to Marion. She was always very
fond of her. Pretty Marion! Poor Marion! Cheer up, Mistress
-you are married now, you know, Clemency."
Clemency only sighed, and shook her head.
"Well, well! Wait till to-morrow," said the lawyer, kindly.
"To-morrow can't bring back the dead to life, Mister," said
Clemency, sobbing.
"No. It can't do that, or it would bring back Mr. Craggs,
deceased," returned the lawyer. "But it may bring some soothing circumstances; it may bring some comfort.  Wait till tomorrow!"
So Clemency, shaking his proffered hand, said that she would;
and Britain, who had been terribly cast down at sight of his
despondent wife (which was like the business hanging its head),
said that was right; and Mr. Snitchey and Michael Warden went
up-stairs; and there they were soon engaged in a conversation so
cautiously conducted, that no murmur of it was audible above the
clatter of plates and dishes, the hissing of the frying-pan, the bubbling of saucepans, the low monotonous waltzing of the Jackwith a dreadful click every now and then, as if it had met with
some mortal accident to its head, in a fit of giddiness-and all the
other preparations in the kitchen, for their dinner.
To-morrow was a bright and peaceful day; and nowhere were
the autumn tints more beautifully seen, than from the quiet orchard of the Doctor's house. The snows of many winter nights
had melted from that ground, the withered leaves of many sum.




ï~~394

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

mer times had rustled there, since she had fled. The honey-suckle
porch was green again, the trees cast bountiful and changing
shadows on the grass, the landscape was as tranquil and serene
as it had ever been; but where was she!
Not there. Not there. She would have been a stranger sight
in her old home now, even than that home had been at first, without her. But a lady sat in the familiar place, from whose heart
she had never passed away; in whose true memory she lived, unchanging, youthful, radiant with all promise and all hope; in
whose affection-and it was a mother's now: there was a cherished little daughter playing by her side-she had no rival, no
successor; upon whose gentle lips her name was trembling then.
The spirit of the lost girl looked out of those eyes. Those eyes
of Grace, her sister, sitting with her husband in the orchard, on
their wedding-day, and his and Marion's birth-day.
He had not become a great man; he had not grown rich; he
had not forgotten the scenes and friends of his youth: he had not
fulfilled any one of the Doctor's old predictions. But in his useful,
patient, unknown visiting of poor men's homes; and in his watching of sick beds; and in his daily knowledge of the gentleness and
goodness flowering the by-paths of the world, not to be trodden
down beneath the heavy foot of poverty, but springing up, elastic
in its track, and making its way beautiful; he had better learned
and proved, in each succeeding year, the truth of his old faith.
The manner of his life, though quiet and remote, had shown him
how often men still entertained angels, unawares, as in the olden
time; and how the most unlikely forms-even some that were
mean and ugly to the view, and poorly clad-became irradiated
by the couch of sorrow, want, and pain, and changed to ministering spirits with a glory round their heads.
He lived to better purpose on the altered battle-ground perhaps,
than if he had contended restlessly in more ambitious lists; and
he was happy with his wife, dear Grace




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

395

And Marion. Had he forgotten her?
"The time has flown, dear Grace," he said, "since then;" they
had been talking of that night; "and yet it seems a long while
ago.  We count by changes and events within us.    Not by
years."
"Yet we have years to count by, too, since Marion was with
us," returned Grace. "Six times, dear husband, counting tonight as one, we have sat here on her birth-day, and spoken together of that happy return, so eagerly expected and so long deferred. Ah, when will it be! Ah, when will it be!"
Her husband attentively observed her, as the tears collected in
her eyes; and drawing nearer, said:
"But Marion told you in that farewell letter which she left for
you upon your table, love, and which you read so often, that
years must pass away before it could be. Did she not?"
She took a letter from her breast, and kissed it, and said, "Yes."
"That through those intervening years, however happy she
might be, she would look forward to the time when you would
meet again, and all would be made clear: and prayed you trustfully and hopefully to do the same. The letter runs so, does it
not, my dear?"
" Yes, Alfred."
"And every other letter she has written since?"
"Except the last-some months ago-in which she spoke of
you, and what you then knew, and what I was to learn to-night."
He looked toward the sun, then fast declining, and said that
the appointed time was sunset.
"Alfred!" said Grace, laying her hand upon his shoulder earnestly, "there is something in this letter-this old letter, which
you say I read so often-that I never told you. But to-night,
dlear husband, with that sunset drawing near, and all our life
seeming to soften and become hushed with the departing day, I
can not keep it secret."




ï~~896             CHRISTMAS STORIES.
"What is it, love?"
"When Marion went away, she wrote me, here, that you had
once left her a sacred trust to me, and that now she left you,
Alfred, such a trust in my hands: praying and beseeching me, as
I loved her, and as I loved you, not to reject the affection she
believed (she knew, she said) you would transfer to me when the
new wound was healed, but to encourage and return it."
"-And make me a proud and happy man again, Grace. Did
she say so?"
"She meant, to make myself so blest and honored in your love,"
was his wife's answer, as he held her in his arms.
"Hear me, my dear!" he said.-" No. Hear me so!"-and
as he spoke, he gently laid the head she had raised again upon his
shoulder. "I know why I have never heard this passage in the
letter until now. I know why no trace of it ever showed itself in
any word or look of yours at that time. I know why Grace,
although so true a friend to me, was hard to win to be my wife.
And knowing it, my own! I know the priceless value of the heart
I gird within my arms, and thank GOD for the rich possession!"
She wept, but not for sorrow, as he pressed her to his heart.
After a brief space, he looked down at the child, who was sitting
at their feet playing with a little basket of flowers, and bade hei
look how golden and how red the sun was.
"Alfred," said Grace, raising her head quickly at these words,
"the sun is going down. You have not forgotten what I am to
know before it sets."
" You are to know the truth of Marion's history, my love," he
answered.
" All the truth," she said, imploringly. "Nothing vailed from
me any more. That was the promise. Was it not?"
"It was," he answered.
" Before the sun went down on Marion's birth-day. And you
see it, Alfred? It is sinking fast."




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

897

He put his arm about her waist; and, looking steadily into her
eyes, rejoined,
"That truth is not reserved so long for me to tell, dear Grace.
It is to come from other lips."
" From other lips!" she faintly echo(-d.
"Yes. I know your constant heart; I know how brave you
are; I know that to you a word of preparation is enough. You
have said. truly, that the time is come. It is. Tell me that you
have present fortitude to bear a trial-a surprise-a shock; and
the messenger is waiting at the gate."
"What messenger?" she said. "And what intelligence does
he bring?"
"I am pledged," he answered her, preserving his steady look,
"to say no more. Do you think you understand me?"
" I am afraid to think," she said.
There was that emotion in his face, despite its steady gaze,
which frightened her. Again she hid her own face on his shoulder, trembling, and entreated him to pause-a moment.
" Courage, my wife? When you have firmness to receive the
messenger, the messenger is waiting at the gate. The sun is
setting on Marion's birth-day. Courage, courage, Grace!"
She raised her head, and looking at him, told him she was
ready. As she stood, and looked upon him going away, her face
was so like Marion's as it had been in her later days at home,
that it was wonderful to see. He took the child with him. She
called her back-she bore the lost girl's name-and pressed her
to her bosom. The little creature being released again, sped after
him, and Grace was left alone.
She knew not what she dreaded, or what hoped; but remained
there, motionless, looking at the porch by which they had disappeared.
Ah! what was that emerging from its shadow; standing onil its
threshold! that figure, with its white garments rustling in the




ï~~398

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

evening air; its head laid down upon her father's breast, and
pressed against it to his loving heart! Oh, God! was it a vision
that came bursting from the old man's arms, and with a cry, and
with a waving of its hands, and with a wild precipitation of itself
upon her in its boundless love, sank down in her embrace!
"Oh, Marion, Marion! Oh, my sister! Oh, my heart's dear
love! Oh, joy and happiness unutterable, so to meet again!"
It was no dream, no phantom conjured up by hope and fear,
but Marion, sweet Marion! So beautiful, so happy, so unalloyed by care and trial, so elevated and exal'd in her loveliness,
that, as the setting sun shone brightly on her upturned face, she
might have been a spirit visiting the earth upon some healing
mission.
Clinging to her sister, who had dropped upon a seat, and bent
down over her, and smiling through her tears, and kneeling close
before her, with both arms twining round her, and never turning
for an instant from her face, and with the glory of the setting sun
upon her brow, and with the soft tranquillity of evening gathering
around them, Marion at length broke silence; her voice, so calm,
low, clear, and pleasant, well-tuned to the time.
" When this was my dear home, Grace, as it will be now,
again-"
" Stay, my sweet love! A moment! Oh, Marion to hear you
speak again!"
She could not bear the voice she loved so well, at first.
"When this was my dear home, Grace, as it will be now
again, I loved him from my soul. I loved him most devotedly.
I would have died for him, though I was so young. I never
slighted his affection in my secret breast, for one brief instant. It
was far beyond all price to me. Although it is so long ago, and
past and gone, and every thing is wholly changed, I could not
bear to think that you, who love so well, should think I did not
truly love him once. I never loved him better, Grace, than when




ï~~THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE.  8

d99

he left this very scene upon this very day. I never loved him
better, dear one, than I did that night when I left here."
Her sister, bending over her could only look into her face and
hold her fast.
"But he had gained, unconsciously," said Marion, with a gentle
smile, " another heart, before I knew that I had one to give him.
That heart-yours, my sister-was so yielded up, in all its other
tenderness, to me; was so devoted, and so noble; that it plucked
its love away, and kept its secret from all eyes but mine-Ah!
what other eyes were quickened by such tenderness and gratitude!
-and was content to sacrifice itself to me. But I knew something of its depths. I knew the struggle it had made. I knew
its high, inestimable worth to him, and his appreciation of it, let
him love me as he would. I knew the debt I owed it. I had its
great example every day before me. What you had done for
me, I knew that I could do, Grace, if I would, for you. I never
laid my head down on my pillow, but I prayed with tears to do
it. I never laid my head down on my pillow, but I thought cf
Alfred's own words, on the day of his departure, and how truly he
had said (for I knew that, by you) that there were victories gained
every day, in struggling hearts, to which these fields of battle
were as nothing. Thinking more and more upon the great endurance cheerfully sustained, and never known or cared for, that
there must be every day and hour, in that great strife of which
he spoke, my trial seemed to grow light and easy: and He who
knows our hearts, my dearest, at this moment, and who knows
there is no drop of bitterness or grief-of any thing but unmixed
happiness-in mine, enabled me to make the resolution that I
never would be Alfred's wife. That he should be my brother,
and your husband, if the course I took could bring that happy
end to pass; but that I never would (Grace, I then loved him
dlearly, dearly!) be his wife!"
" Oh, Marion! oh, Marion!"




ï~~400

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" I had tried to seem indifferent to him;" and she pressed hex
sister's face against her own; "but that was hard, and you wexe
always his true advocate. I had tried to tell you of my resolution, but you would never hear me; you would never understand
me. The time was drawing near for his return. I felt that I
must act, before the daily intercourse between us was renewed.
I knew that one great pang, undergone at that time, would save
a lengthened agony to all of us. I knew that if I went away
then, that end must follow which has followed, and which has made
us both so happy, Grace! I wrote to good Aunt Martha, for a
refuge in her house: I did not then tell her all, but something
of my story, and she freely promised it. While I was contesting
that step with myself, and with my love of you, and home, Mr.
Warden, brought here by an accident, became, for some time, our
companion."
" I have sometimes feared of late years, that this might have
been," exclaimed her sister, and her countenance was ashy pale
"You never loved him-and you married him in your self-sacrifice to me!"
" He was then," said Marion, drawing her closer to her, "on
the eve of going secretly away for a long time. He wrote to me,
after leaving here; told me what his condition and prospects really
were; and offered me his hand. He told me he had seen I was
not happy in the prospect of Alfred's return. I believe he thought
my heart had no part in that contract; perhaps thought I might
have loved him once, and did not then; perhaps thought that
when I tried to seem indifferent, I tried to hide indifferenceI can not tell. But I wished that you should feel me wholly
lost to Alfred-hopeless to him-dead. Do you understand me,
love?"
Her sistwr looked into her face, attentively. She seemed in
doubt.
"I saw Mr. Warden, and confided in his honor; charged him




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

401

with my secret, on the eve of his and my departure. He kept it
Do you understand me, dear?"
Grace looked confiusedly upon her. She scarcely seemed to hear.
"My love, my sister!" said Marion, recall your thoughts a moment: listen to me. Do not look so strangely on me. There are
countries, dearest, where those who would abjure a misplaced passion, or would strive against some cherished feeling of their hearts
and conquer it, retire into a hopeless solitude, and close the world
against themselves and worldly loves and hopes forever. When
women do so, they assume that name which is so dear to you and
me, and call each other Sisters. But there may be sisters, Grace
who, in the broad world out of doors, and underneath its free sky,
and in its crowded places, and among its busy life, and trying to
assist and cheer it, and to do some good-learn the same lesson;
and, with hearts still fresh and young, and open to all happiness
and means of happiness, can say the battle is long past, the victory
long won. And such a one am I. You understand me now?"
Still she looked fixedly upon her, and made no reply.
"Oh, Grace, dear Grace," said Marion, clinging yet more tenderly and fondly to that breast from which she had been so long
exiled, "if you were not a happy wife and mother-if I had no
little namesake here-if Alfred, my kind brother, were not your
own fond husband-from whence could I derive the ecstasy I feel
to-night! But as I left here, so I have returned. My heart has
known no other love, my hand has never been bestowed apart
from it, I am still your maiden sister: unmarried, unbetrothed:
your own old loving Marion, in whose affection you exist alone,
and have no partner, Grace!"
She understood her now. Her face relaxed; sobs came to her
relief; and falling on her neck, she wept, and wept, and fondled
her as if she were a child again.
When they were more composed, they found that the Doctor, and
his sister good Aunt Martha, were standing near at hand, with Alfred
25




ï~~402

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

" This is a weary day for me," said good Aunt Martha, smiling
through her tears, as she embraced her nieces; "for I lose my dear
companion in making you all happy; and what can you give me
in return for my Marion!"
"A converted brother," said the Doctor.
"That's something, to be sure," retorted Aunt Martha, "in
such a farce as-"
"No, pray don't," said the Doctor, penitently.
"Well, I won't," replied Aunt Martha. " But I consider myself ill used. I don't know what's to become of me without my
Marion, after we have lived together half-a-dozen years."
"You must come and live here, I suppose," replied the Doctor.
"We sha'n't quarrel now, Martha."
"Or get married, Aunt," said Alfred.
"Indeed," returned the old lady, "I think it might be a good
speculation if I were to set my cap at Michael Warden, who, I
hear, is come home much the better for his absence, in all respects.
But as I knew him when he was a boy, and I was not a very
young woman then, perhaps he mightn't respond. So I'll make
up my mind to go and live with Marion, when she marries, and
until then (it will not be very long, I dare say) to live alone.
What do you say, Brother?"
"I've a great mind to say it's a ridiculous world altogether,
and there's nothing serious in it," observed the poor old Doctor.
"You might take twenty affidavits of it if you chose, Anthony,"
said his sister; "but nobody would believe you with such eyes as
those."
" It's a world full of hearts," said the Doctor, hugging his
younger daughter, and bending across her to hug Grace-for he
couldn't separate the sisters; " and a serious world, with all
its folly-even with mine, which was enough to have swamped
the whole globe; and a world on which the sun never rises, but
it looks upon a thousand bloodless battles that are some set-off




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

403

against the miseries and wickedness of Battle-Fields; and a world
we need be careful how we libel, Heaven forgive us, for it is a
world of sacred mysteries, and its Creator only knows what lies
beneath the surface of His lightest image!"
You would not be the better pleased with my rude pen, if it
dissected and laid open to your view the transports of this family,
long severed and now reunited. Therefore, I will not follow the
poor Doctor through his humbled recollection of the sorrow he had
had, when Marion was lost to him; nor will I tell how serious
he had found that world to be, in which some love deep-anchored,
is the portion of all human creatures; nor how such a trifle as the
absence of one little unit in the great absurd account, had stricken
him to the ground. Nor how, in compassion for his distress, his
sister had long ago, revealed the truth to him, by slow degrees;
and brought him to the knowledge of the heart of his self-banished
daughter, and to that daughter's side.
Nor how Alfred Heathfield had been told the truth, too, in the
course of that then current year; and Marion had seen him, and
had promised him, as her brother, that on her birth-day, in the
evening, Grace should know it from her lips at last
"I beg your pardon, Doctor," said Mr. Snitchey, looking into the
orchard, " but have I liberty to come in?"
Without waiting for permission, he came straight to Marion, and
kissed her hand, quite joyfully.
If Mr. Craggs had been alive, my dear Miss Marion," said Mr
Snitchey, " he would have had great interest in this occasion. It
might have suggested to him, Mr. Alfred, that our life is not too
easy, perhaps; that, taken altogether, it will bear any little
smoothing we can give it; but Mr. Craggs was a man who could
endure to be convinced, Sir. He was always open to conviction.
If hle were open to conviction now, I-this is weakness. Mrs.
Snitchey, my dear,"-at his summons that lady appeared from behind the door, "you are among old friends."




ï~~404

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

Mrs. Snitchey having delivered her congratulations, took her
husband aside.
One moment, Mr. Snitchey, said that lady, " it is not in my
nature to rake up the ashes of the departed."
"No, my dear," returned her husband.
" Mr. Craggs is-"
"Yes, my dear, he is deceased," said Mr. Snitchey.
"But I ask you if you recollect," pursued his wife, "that evening
of the ball. I only ask you that. If you do; and if your memory
has not entirely failed you, Mr. Snitchey; and if you are not absolutely in your dotage; I ask you to connect this time with thatto remember how I begged and prayed you, on my knees-"
"Upon my knees, my dear?" said Mr. Snitchey.
"Yes," said Mrs. Snitchey, confidently, " and you know it-to
beware of that man-to observe his eye-and now to tell me
whether I was right, and whether at that moment he knew secrets which he didn't choose to tell."
" Mrs. Snitchey," returned her husband, in her ear, "Madam
Did you ever observe any thing in my eye?"
"No," said Mrs. Snitchey, sharply. " Don't flatter yourself."
"Because, Ma'am, that night," he continued, twitching her by
the sleeve, "it happens that we both knew secrets which we didn't
choose to tell, and both knew just the same, professionally. And
so the less you say about such things the better, Mrs. Snitchey;
and take this as a warning to have wiser and more charitable eyes
another time. Miss Marion, I brought a friend of yours along with
me. Here! Mistress."
Poor Clemency, with her apron to her eyes, came slowly in, escorted by her husband; the latter doleful with the presentiment, that if
she abandoned herself to grief, the Nutmeg Grater was done for.
" Now, Mistress," said the lawyer, checking Marion as she ran
towards her, and interposing himself between them, "what's the
matter with you?"




ï~~THE BATTLE OF LIFE.

405

"Tne matter!" cried poor Clemency.
When, looking up in wonder, and in indignant remonstrance,
and in the added emotion of a great roar from Mr. Britain, and
seeing that sweet face so well-remembered close before her, she
stared, sobbed, laughed, cried, screamed, embraced her, held her
fast, released her, fell on Mr. Snitchey and embraced him (much
to Mrs. Snitchey's indignation), fell on the Doctor and embraced
him, fell on Mr. Britain and embraced him, and concluded by embracing herself, throwing her apron over her head, and going into
hysterics behind it.
A stranger had come into the orchard, after Mr. Snitchey, and
had remained apart, near the gate, without being observed by
any of the group; for they had little spare attention to bestow, and
that had been monopolized by the ecstasies of Clemency. He did
not appear to wish to be observed, but stood alone, with downcast
eyes; and there was an air of dejection about him (though he was
a gentleman of a gallant appearance) which the general happiness
rendered more remarkable.
None but the quick eyes of Aunt Martha, however, remarked
him at all; but almost as soon as she espied him, she was in conversation with him. Presently, going to where Marion stood with
Grace and her little namesake, she whispered something in Marion's ear, at which she started, and appeared surprised; but soon
recovering from her confusion, she timidly approached the stranger,
in Aunt Martha's company, and engaged in conversation with
him too.
"Mr. Britain," said the lawyer, putting his hand in his pocket,
and bringing out a legal-looking document, while this was going
on, "I congratulate you. You are now the whole and sole proprietor of that freehold tenement, at present occupied and held by
yourself as a licensed tavern, or house of public entertainment, arind
commonly called or known by the sign of the Nutmeg Grater.
Your wife lost one house, through my client Mr. Michael Warden;




ï~~406

CHRISTMAS STORIES.

and now gains another. I shall have the pleasure of canvassing
you for the county, one of these fine mornings."
" Would it make any difference in the vote if the sign was
altered, Sir?" asked Britain.
" Not in the least," replied the lawyer.
"Then," said Mr. Britain, handing him back the conveyance,
"just clap in the words, ' and Thimble,' will you be so good; and
I'll have the two mottoes painted up in the parlor, instead of my
wife's portrait."
"And let me," said a voice behind them; it was the stranger's-Michael Warden's; "let me claim the benefit of those inscriptions. Mr. Heathfield and Dr. Jeddler, I might have deeply
wronged you both. That I did not, is no virtue of my own. I
will not say that I am six years wiser than I was, or better. But
I have known at any rate, that term of self-reproach. I can urge
no reason why you should deal gently with me. I abused the
hospitality of this house; and learnt my own demerits, with a
shame I never have forgotten, yet with some profit too I would
fain hope, from one," he glanced at Marion, "to whom I made
my humble supplication for forgiveness, when I knew her merit
and my deep unworthiness. In a few days I shall quit this place
forever. I entreat your pardon. Do as you would be done by!
Forget, and forgive!"
TIME-from whom I had the latter portion of this story, and
with whom I have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance of
some five and thirty years' duration-informed me, leaning easily
upon his scythe, that Michael Warden never went away again.
and never sold his house, but opened it afresh, maintained a
golden mean of hospitality, and had a wife, the pride and honor
of that country side, whose name was Marion. But as I have
observed that time confuses facts occasionally, I hardly know what
weight to give to his authority.




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