1 Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
2 We have never had any quarrel to which I have been a party.
3 You will, therefore, permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
4 It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's.
5 Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal.
6 We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices.
7 I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.
8 Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house.
9 Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.
10 To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that nature lived hard by and was brewing on a large scale.
11 Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.
12 There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge, who overheard him: "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas.
13 The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open, that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters.
14 He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
15 Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth.
16 At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time.
17 If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot--say St. Paul's Church-yard, for instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
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