countenance, broke forth in this wise: "Learning, quotha!" said he; "I would have all such rogues scourged by the Hangman! (STEVENSON: An Apology for Idlers) AN UNWELCOME CHRISTMAS GREETING "A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful 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 approach. "Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!" He had so heated himself with 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 am sure." "I do," said Scrooge. 66 Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough." "What "Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. 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 moment, 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 for 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!" pleaded his nephew. 66 66 Nephew!" returned his 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." 66 "Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done GEORGE OSBORNE BERATES DOBBIN "A pretty way you have managed the affair," said George, looking savagely at William Dobbin. "Look here, Dobbin," and he flung over to the latter his parent's letter. "A beggar, by Jove, and all in consequence of my deuced sentimentality. Why couldn't we have waited? A ball might have done for me in the course of the war, and may still, and how will Emmy be bettered by being left a beggar's widow? It was all your doing. You were never easy until you had got me married and ruined. What the deuce am I to do with two thousand pounds? Such a sum won't last two years. I've lost a hundred and forty to Crawley at cards and billiards since I've been down here. A pretty manager of a man's affairs you are, forsooth." "There's no denying that the position is a hard one," Dobbin replied, after reading over the letter with a blank countenance; " and as you say, it is partly of my making. There are some men who wouldn't mind changing with you," he added, with a bitter smile. "How many captains in the regiment have two thousand pounds to the fore, think you? You must live on your pay till your father relents, and if you die, you leave your wife a hundred a year." How 66 Do you suppose a man of my habits can live on his pay and a hundred a year?" George cried out in great anger. "You must be a fool to talk so, Dobbin. the deuce am I to keep up my position in the world upon such a pitiful pittance? I can't change my habits. I must have my comforts. I wasn't brought up on porridge, like MacWhirter, or on potatoes, like old O'Dowd. Do you expect my wife to take in soldiers' washing, or ride after the regiment in a baggage wagon?' "Well, well," said Dobbin, still good-naturedly, "we'll get her a better conveyance. But try and remember that you are only a dethroned prince now, George, my boy; and be quiet whilst the tempest lasts. It won't be for long. Let your name be mentioned in the Gazette, and I'll engage the old father relents to wards you." "Mentioned in the Gazette!" George answered. “And in what part of it? Among the killed and wounded returns, and at the top of the list, very likely.' 99 "Psha! It will be time enough to cry out when we are hurt," Dobbin said. "And if anything happens, you know, George, I have got a little, and I am not a marrying man, and I shall not forget my godson in my will,” he added, with a smile. Whereupon the dispute ended as many scores of such conversations between Osborne and his friend had concluded previously by the former declaring there was no possibility of being angry with Dobbin long, and forgiving him very generously after abusing him without cause. (THACKERAY: Vanity Fair) A POOR RIDER Alice ... walked on in silence, every now and then stopping to help the poor knight, who certainly was not a good rider. Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), he fell off in front; and whenever it went on again (which it did rather suddenly), he fell off behind. Otherwise he kept on pretty well, except that he had a habit of now and then falling off sideways; and as he generally did this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon found that it was the best plan not to walk quite close to the horse. "I'm afraid you've not had much practice in riding," she ventured to say, as she was helping him up from his fifth tumble. The Knight looked very much surprised, and a little offended at the remark. "What makes you say that?" he asked, as he scrambled back into the saddle, keeping hold of Alice's hair with one hand, to save himself from falling over on the other side. "Because people don't fall off quite so often, when they've had much practice.”" "I've had plenty of practice," the Knight said very gravely; "plenty of practice!' Alice could think of nothing better to say than “Indeed?" but she said it as heartily as she could. They went on a little way in silence after this, the Knight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and Alice watching anxiously for the next tumble. “The great art of riding," the Knight began in a loud voice, waving his right arm as he spoke, "is to keep-" Here the sentence ended as suddenly as it had begun, as the Knight fell heavily on the top of his head exactly in the path where Alice was walking. She was quite frightened this time, and said in an anxious tone, as she picked I hope no bones are broken? "None to speak of," the Knight said, as if he didn't mind breaking two or three of them. "The great art of riding, as I was saying, is to keep your balance properly. Like this, you know—” him up, 66 He let go of the bridle, and stretched out both his arms to show Alice what he meant, and this time he fell flat on his back, right under the horse's feet. 66 Plenty of practice!" he went on repeating, all the time that Alice was getting him on his feet again. "Plenty of practice!" "It's too ridiculous!" cried Alice, losing all her patience this time. "You ought to have a wooden horse on wheels, that you ought!" (CARROLL: Through the Looking Glass) INTRODUCTION TO THE NOMINATION OF GRANT In obedience to instructions I should never dare to disregard, expressing also my own firm convictions,— I rise to propose a nomination with which the country and the Republican party can grandly win. The election before us is to be the Austerlitz of American politics. It will decide, for many years, whether the country shall be Republican or Cossack. The supreme need of the hour is not of a candidate who can carry Michigan. All Republicans can do that. The need is not of a candidate who is popular in the Territories, because they |