There Wasn't Room To Swing

It Was One Of Those March Days When The Sun Shines Hot And The Wind Blows Cold: When It Is Summer In The Light, And Winter In The Shade.

Some Medical Beast Had Revived Tar-water In Those Days As A Fine Medicine, And Mrs. Joe Always Kept A Supply Of It In The Cupboard; Having A Belief In Its Virtues Correspondent To Its Nastiness. At The Best Of Times, So Much Of This Elixir Was Administered To Me As A Choice Restorative, That I Was Conscious Of Going About, Smelling Like A New Fence.

It's Not My Business," Scrooge Returned. "it's Enough For A Man To Understand His Own Business, And Not To Interfere With Other People's. Mine Occupies Me Constantly.

He Wore A Sprinkling Of Powder Upon His Head, As If To Make Himself Look Benevolent; But If That Were His Purpose, He Would Perhaps Have Done Better To Powder His Countenance Also, For There Was Something In Its Very Wrinkles, And In His Cold Restless Eye, Which Seemed To Tell Of Cunning That Would Announce Itself In Spite Of Him.

Mrs Joe Was A Very Clean Housekeeper, But Had An Exquisite Art Of Making Her Clenliness More Umcomfortable And Unacceptable Than Dirt Itself. Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness, And Some People Do The Same By Their Religion.