XXIX. MR. BLUFF'S EXPERIENCES OF HOLIDAYS*
* Reprinted by permission of Moffat, Yird & Co., from Christmas. R.H.
Schauffler, Editor.
OLIVER BELL BUNCE
"I hate holidays," said Bachelor Bluff to me, with some little
irritation, on a Christmas a few years ago. Then he paused an instant,
after which he resumed: "I don't mean to say that I hate to see people
enjoying themselves. But I hate holidays, nevertheless, because to me
they are always the saddest and dreariest days of the year. I shudder
at the name of holiday. I dread the approach of one, and thank heaven
when it is over. I pass through, on a holiday, the most horrible
sensations, the bitterest feelings, the most oppressive melancholy; in
fact, I am not myself at holiday-times."
"Very strange," I ventured to interpose.
"A plague on it!" said he, almost with violence. "I'm not inhuman. I
don't wish anybody harm. I'm glad people can enjoy themselves. But I
hate holidays all the same. You see, this is the reason: I am a
bachelor; I am without kin; I am in a place that did not know me at
birth. And so, when holidays come around, there is no place anywhere
for me. I have friends, of course; I don't think I've been a very
sulky, shut-in, reticent fellow; and there is many a board that has a
place for me--but not at Christmastime. At Christmas, the dinner is a
family gathering; and I've no family.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263