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Leacock, Stephen, 1869-1944

"Frenzied Fiction"


Later on, far in the night, the person, or the influence,
or whatever it is called Santa Claus, took all the presents
and placed them in the people's stockings.
And, being blind as he always has been, he gave the wrong
things to the wrong people--in fact, he gave them just
as indicated above.
But the next day, in the course of Christmas morning,
the situation straightened itself out, just as it always
does.
Indeed, by ten o'clock, Brown and Jones were playing with
the train, and Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Jones were making
dolls' clothes, and the boys were smoking cigarettes,
and Clarisse and Ulvina were playing cards for their
pocket-money.
And upstairs--away up--Grandfather was drinking whisky
and playing the Jew's harp.
And so Christmas, just as it always does, turned out all
right after all.


XI. Lost in New York
A VISITOR'S SOLILOQUY
Well! Well!
Whatever has been happening to this place, to New York?
Changed? Changed since I was here in '86? Well, I should
say so.
The hack-driver of the old days that I used to find
waiting for me at the station curb, with that impossible
horse of his--the hack-driver with his bulbous red face,
and the nice smell of rye whisky all 'round him for
yards--gone, so it seems, for ever.


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