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from A Christmas Carol
Stave Three (The Second of the Three Ghosts)
Christmas Morning
The house fronts looked black
enough, and the windows blacker, contrasting with the
smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with the
dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been
ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts
and waggons; furrows that sed and re-crossed 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, half frozen, 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
hearts' 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 endeavoured to diffuse in
vain.
For the people who were shovelling away on the
housetops were jovial and full of glee; calling out one
another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a
facetious snowball--better-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, broad-girthed 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 fragrance, ancient walks among the
woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through
withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and
swarthy, setting off the 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
stagnant-blooded 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.
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