Darkness Is Cheap, And Scrooge Liked It.

He Was Consious Of A Thousand Odours Floating In The Air, Each One Connected With A Thousand Thoughts, And Hopes, And Joys, And Cares, Long, Long, Forgotten.

You May Be An Undigested Bit Of Beef, A Blot Of Mustard, A Crumb Of Cheese, A Fragment Of Underdone Potato. There's More Of Gravy Than Of Grave About You, Whatever You Are!

Discipline Must Be Maintained.

The Nephew Revenges Himself For This, By Holding His Breath And Terrifying His Kinswoman With The Dread Belief That He Has Made Up His Mind To Burst. Regardless Of Whispers And Shakes, He Swells And Becomes Discoloured, And Yet Again Swells And Becomes Discoloured, Until The Aunt Can Bear It No Longer, But Leads Him Out, With No Visible Neck, And With His Eyes Going Before Him Like A Prawn's.

For It Is Good To Be Children Sometimes, And Never Better Than At Christmas, When Its Mighty Founder Was A Child Himself.