Fellow-Travellers at Christmas

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    A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Uncle Scrooge’s nephew has a word with him…

    There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest.

    But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round – apart from the veneration due to its sacred origin, if anything belonging to it call be apart from that – as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to thank of people below them as if they really were fellow-travellers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.

    And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

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