bluetangent.org/djinn.php 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. If I could work my will, 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! There are many things from which I might have derived good by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest, but I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, 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 journeys, and, therefore, uncle, though it has not 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, Heaven bless it!
Let me hear another sound from you — To Bob. I want nothing — I ask nothing of you. Well, I'm sorry to find you so resolute — we have never had any quarrel — I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last — so, a merry Christmas, uncle. And a happy Christmas, and a merry new year to you, Bob Cratchit. Shaking him by the hand. The same to you, sir, and many of 'em, and to your wife, and to your darling children, and to all your friends, and to all you know, and to every one, to all the world.
Exit Frank, 2 e.
In it was estimated that nearly half of all funerals in London were for children under the age of ten. What shall we put you down for? The same to you, sir, and many of 'em, and to your wife, and to your darling children, and to all your friends, and to all you know, and to every one, to all the world. Christmas Present — Long green robe, trimmed with ermine, flesh body and legs, wreath round head. Richard E. When Scrooge awakes the next morning, nothing is as it was before What reason have you to be morose?
There's another fellow, my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam. Two gentlemen want you, sir, as fat as prize beef — shall I call 'em in? Goes to side.
Walk this way if you please, gentlemen. At this festive season of the year, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute — many thousands are in want of common necessaries — hundreds of thousands are in want of common comfort, sir. I was afraid from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course.
I'm very glad to hear it! Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude, a few of us are endeavouring 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 abundances rejoice. What shall we put you down for? I wish to be left alone.
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 named — they cost enough — those who are badly off must go there. If they'd rather die, they'd better do it, and decrease the surplus population. However, it's not my business, so good evening, gentlemen.
I am sorry we disturbed you. As they are about to exeunt, Bob approaches them — Scrooge retires up.
Beg pardon, gentlemen, I've got an odd eighteen-pence here that I was going to buy a new pair of gloves with in honour of Christmas day, but my heart would feel warmer though my hands were colder, if it helped to put a dinner and a garment on a poor creature who might need. There take it. This way, gentlemen. I feel as light as my four-and-ninepenny gossamer! Exeunt 2 e. Skickas inom vardagar.
Skickas inom vardagar specialorder.
Original issued in series: The minor drama ; no. A Christmas Carol; Or, The Miser's Warning! by C. Z. Barnett and Charles Dickens. No cover available. Download; Bibrec.
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