A Christmas carol in prose. (Lord mayor Treloar's ed.).

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Contents

I
1
II
48
III
91
IV
149
V
187

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Page 115 - 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 the pudding.
Page 113 - Miss Belinda sweetened up the applesauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table...
Page 113 - His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his 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...
Page 42 - 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...
Page 200 - 11 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.
Page 7 - 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, 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...
Page 120 - 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.
Page 30 - Ghost!' and fell again. The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, 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.
Page 2 - Change, for anything 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...
Page 37 - 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.

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