Surprises, Like Misfortunes, Seldom Come Alone.

If They Would Rather Die, . . . They Had Better Do It, And Decrease The Surplus Population.

Bleak, Dark, And Piercing Cold, It Was A Night For The Well-housed And Fed To Draw Round The Bright Fire, And Thank God They Were At Home; And For The Homeless Starving Wretch To Lay Him Down And Die. Many Hunger-worn Outcasts Close Their Eyes In Our Bare Streets At Such Times, Who, Let Their Crimes Have Been What They May, Can Hardly Open Them In A More Bitter World.

By The By, Who Ever Knew A Man Who Never Read Or Wrote Neither Who Hadn't Got Some Small Back Parlour Which He Would Call A Study!

External Heat And Cold Had Little Influence On Scrooge. No Warmth Could Warm, No Wintry Weather Chill Him. No Wind That Blew Was Bitterer Than He, No Falling Snow Was More Intent Upon Its Purpose, No Pelting Rain Less Open To Entreaty.

In Seasons Of Pestilence, Some Of Us Will Have A Secret Attraction To The Disease--a Terrible Passing Inclination To Die Of It.