The More Man Knows Of Man, The

I Could Not Help Wondering In My Own Mind....how It Came To Pass That Our Joints Of Meat Were Of Such Extraordinary Shapes - And Whether Our Butcher Contracted For All The Deformed Sheep That Came Into The World; But I Kept My Reflections To Myself.

Above All, One Hideous Figure Grew As Familiar As If It Had Been Before The General Gaze From The Foundations Of The World - The Figure Of The Sharp Female Called La Guillotine. It Was The Popular Theme For Jests; It Was The Best Cure For Headache, It Infallibly Prevented Hair From Turning Gray, It Imparted A Peculiar Delicacy To The Complexion, It Was The National Razor Which Shaved Close: Who Kissed La Guillotine Looked Through The Little Window And Sneezed Into The Sack.

Under None Of The Accredited Ghostly Circumstances, And Environed By None Of The Conventional Ghostly Surroundings, Did I First Make Acquaintance With The House Which Is The Subject Of This Christmas Piece. I Saw It In The Daylight, With The Sun Upon It. There Was No Wind, No Rain, No Lightning, No Thunder, No Awful Or Unwonted Circumstance, Of Any Kind, To Heighten Its Effect.

A Most Excellent Man, Though I Could Have Wished His Trousers Not Quite So Tight In Some Places And Not Quite So Loose In Others.

In This Way They Went On, And On, And On-in The Language Of The Story-books-until At Last The Village Lights Appeared Before Them, And The Church Spire Cast A Long Reflection On The Graveyard Grass; As If It Were A Dial (alas, The Truest In The World!) Marking, Whatever Light Shone Out Of Heaven, The Flight Of Days And Weeks And Years, By Some New Shadow On That Solemn Ground.