Bring In The Bottled Lightning, A Clean

We Came To The House, And It Is An Old House, Full Of Great Chimneys Where Wood Is Burnt On Ancient Dogs Upon The Hearth, And Grim Portraits (some Of Them With Grim Legends, Too) Lower Distrustfully From The Oaken Panels Of The Walls.

Probably Every New And Eagerly Expected Garment Ever Put On Since Clothes Came In, Fell A Trifle Short Of The Wearer's Expectation.

"vell," Said Mr. Weller, "now I S'pose He'll Want To Call Some Witnesses To Speak To His Character, Or P'raps To Prove A Alleybi. I've Been A Turnin' The Bis'ness Over In My Mind, And He May Make His-self Easy, Sammy. I've Got Some Friends As'll Do Either For Him, But My Adwice 'ud Be This Here-never Mind The Character, And Stick To The Alleybi. Nothing Like A Alleybi, Sammy, Nothing."

Happy, Happy Christmas, That Can Win Us Back To The Delusions Of Our Childhood Days, Recall To The Old Man The Pleasures Of His Youth, And Transport The Traveler Back To His Own Fireside And Quiet Home!

Oh The Nerves, The Nerves; The Mysteries Of This Machine Called Man! Oh The Little That Unhinges It, Poor Creatures That We Are!