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The Mahogany-tree
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY Christmas is her...

A Christmas Matinee
MRS. M. A. L. LANE IT WAS the day before Christmas...

The Christmas Masquerade
MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN ON Christmas Eve the Mayor...

Ballade Of Christmas Ghosts
ANDREW LANG Between the moonlight and the fi...

Alice's Christmas-tree
CHAPTER I. Alice MacNeil had made the plan of this...

A Simple Bill Of Fare For A Christmas Dinner
H.H. All good recipe-books give bills of fare for di...

Master Sandy's Snapdragon
ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS THERE was just enough of Decemb...





The Spirit Of Christmas






From Pickwick Papers.

CHARLES DICKENS

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief
season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families whose members have
been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of
life, are then re-united, and meet once again in that happy state of
companionship and mutual good-will, which is a source of such pure and
unalloyed delight, and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of
the world, that the religious belief of the most civilized nations, and
the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the
first joys of a future state of existence, provided for the blest and
happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does
Christmas time awaken!

We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which,
year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of
the hearts that throb so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the
looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we
grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in
the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling
faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstance
connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each
recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but
yesterday. Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions
of our childish days, that can recall to the old man the pleasures of
his youth, and transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of
miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home!





Next: On Good Wishes At Christmas

Previous: A Christmas Carmen



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