some roundabout papers(绕圈的文件)-第6节
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milestones flew by； for the welcome corner where began home and
holidays。
It is night now： and here is home。 Gathered under the quiet roof
elders and children lie alike at rest。 In the midst of a great peace and
calm； the stars look out from the heavens。 The silence is peopled with
the past； sorrowful remorses for sins and shortcomings memories of
passionate joys and griefs rise out of their graves； both now alike calm and
sad。 Eyes； as I shut mine； look at me； that have long ceased to shine。
The town and the fair landscape sleep under the starlight； wreathed in the
autumn mists。 Twinkling among the houses a light keeps watch here and
there； in what may be a sick chamber or two。 The clock tolls sweetly in
the silent air。 Here is night and rest。 An awful sense of thanks makes
the heart swell； and the head bow； as I pass to my room through the
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sleeping house； and feel as though a hushed blessing were upon it。
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ROUND ABOUT THE
CHRISTMAS TREE
The kindly Christmas tree； from which I trust every gentle reader has
pulled out a bonbon or two； is yet all aflame whilst I am writing； and
sparkles with the sweet fruits of its season。 You young ladies； may you
have plucked pretty giftlings from it； and out of the cracker sugar…plum
which you have split with the captain or the sweet young curate may you
have read one of those delicious conundrums which the confectioners
introduce into the sweetmeats； and which apply to the cunning passion of
love。 Those riddles are to be read at your age； when I daresay they are
amusing。 As for Dolly； Merry； and Bell； who are standing at the tree；
they don't care about the love…riddle part； but understand the sweet…
almoned portion very well。 They are four； five； six years old。 Patience；
little people！ A dozen merry Christmases more； and you will be reading
those wonderful love…conundrums； too。 As for us elderly folks； we watch
the babies at their sport； and the young people pulling at the branches：
and instead of finding bonbons or sweeties in the packets which we pluck
off the boughs； we find enclosed Mr Carnifex's review of the quarter's
meat； Mr Sartor's compliments； and little statement for self and the
young gentlemen； and Madame de Sainte… Crinoline's respects to the
young ladies； who encloses her account； and will sent on Saturday； please；
or we stretch our hand out to the educational branch of the Christmas tree；
and there find a lively and amusing article from the Rev。 Henry Holyshade；
containing our dear Tommy's exceedingly moderate account for the last
term's school expenses。
The tree yet sparkles； I say。 I am writing on the day before Twelfth
Day； if you must know； but already ever so many of the fruits have been
pulled； and the Christmas lights have gone out。 Bobby Miseltow； who has
been staying with us for a week （and who has been sleeping mysteriously
in the bath…room）； comes to say he is going away to spend the rest of the
holidays with his grandmother and I brush away the manly tear of regret
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as I part with the dear child。 〃Well； Bob； good…bye； since you will go。
Compliments to grandmamma。 Thank her for the turkey。 Here's 〃 （A
slight pecuniary transaction takes place at this juncture； and Bob nods and
winks； and puts his hand in his waistcoat pocket。） 〃You have had a
pleasant week？〃
Bob。 〃Haven't I！〃 （And exit； anxious to know the amount of the
coin which has just changed hands。）
He is gone； and as the dear boy vanishes through the door （behind
which I see him perfectly）； I too cast up a little account of our past
Christmas week。 When Bob's holidays are over； and the printer has sent
me back this manuscript； I know Christmas will be an old story。 All the
fruit will be off the Christmas tree then； the crackers will have cracked
off； the almonds will have been crunched； and the sweet…bitter riddles
will have been read； the lights will have perished off the dark green
boughs； the toys growing on them will have been distributed； fought for；
cherished； neglected； broken。 Ferdinand and Fidelia will each keep out
of it （be still； my gushing heart！） the remembrance of a riddle read
together； of a double almond munched together； and of the moiety of an
exploded cracker。。。。 The maids； I say； will have taken down all that holly
stuff and nonsense about the clocks； lamps； and looking…glasses； the dear
boys will be back at school； fondly thinking of the pantomime fairies
whom they have seen； whose gaudy gossamer wings are battered by this
time； and whose pink cotton （or silk is it？） lower extremities are all
dingy and dusty。 Yet but a few days； Bob； and flakes of paint will have
cracked off the fairy flower…bowers； and the revolving temples of
adamantine lustre will be as shabby as the city of Pekin。 When you read
this； will Clown still be going on lolling his tongue out of his mouth； and
saying； 〃How are you to…morrow？〃 To… morrow； indeed！ He must be
almost ashamed of himself （if that cheek is still capable of the blush of
shame） for asking the absurd question。 To…morrow； indeed！ To…morrow
the diffugient snows will give place to spring； the snowdrops will lift their
heads； Ladyday may be expected； and the pecuniary duties peculiar to
that feast； in place of bonbons； trees will have an eruption of light green
knobs； the whitebait season will bloom 。。。 as if one need go on describing
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these vernal phenomena； when Christmas is still here； though ending； and
the subject of my discourse！
We have all admired the illustrated papers； and noted how boisterously
jolly they become at Christmas time。 What wassail… bowls； robin…
redbreasts； waits； snow landscapes； bursts of Christmas song！ And then
to think that these festivities are prepared months before that these
Christmas pieces are prophetic！ How kind of artists and poets to devise
the festivities beforehand； and serve them pat at the proper time！ We ought
to be grateful to them； as to the cook who gets up at midnight and sets the
pudding a…boiling； which is to feast us at six o'clock。 I often think with
gratitude of the famous Mr Nelson Lee the author of I don't know how
many hundred glorious pantomimes walking by the summer wave at
Margate； or Brighton perhaps； revolving in his mind the idea of some new
gorgeous spectacle of faery； which the winter shall see complete。 He is
like cook at midnight （si parva licet）。 He watches and thinks。 He
pounds the sparkling sugar of benevolence； the plums of fancy； the
sweetmeats of fun； the figs of well； the figs of fairy fiction； let us say；
and pops the whole in the seething cauldron of imagination； and at due
season serves up the Pantomime。
Very few men in the course of nature can expect to see all the
pantomimes in one season； but I hope to the end of my life I shall never
forego reading about them in that delicious sheet of The Times which
appears on the morning after Boxing…day。 Perhaps reading is even better
than seeing。 The best way； I think； is to say you are ill； lie in bed； and
have the paper for two hours； reading all the way down from Drury Lane
to the Britanni
