A Merry Christmas To Everybody! A Happy

Old Time, That Greatest And Longest Established Spinner Of All!... His Factory Is A Secret Place, His Work Is Noiseless, And His Hands Are Mutes.

"it Wasn't The Wine," Murmured Mr. Snodgrass, In A Broken Voice. "it Was The Salmon."

Change Begets Change. Nothing Propagates So Fast. If A Man Habituated To A Narrow Circle Of Cares And Pleasures, Out Of Which He Seldom Travels, Step Beyond It, Though For Never So Brief A Space, His Departure From The Monotonous Scene On Which He Has Been An Actor Of Importance Would Seem To Be The Signal For Instant Confusion. The Mine Which Time Has Slowly Dug Beneath Familiar Objects Is Sprung In An Instant; And What Was Rock Before, Becomes But Sand And Dust.

Novelties Please Less Than They Impress.

A Brisk, Bright, Blue-eyed Fellow, A Very Neat Figure And Rather Under The Middle Size, Never Out Of The Way And Never In It.