But I don't go. I can't bear the
chill of seeing everybody happy, and knowing myself so lonely and
desolate. Confound it, sir, I've too much heart to be happy under such
circumstances! I'm too humane, sir!
And the result is, I hate holidays. It's miserable to be out, and yet I
can't stay at home, for I get thinking of Christmases past. I can't
read--the shadow of my heart makes it impossible. I can't walk--for I
see nothing but pictures through the bright windows, and happy groups
of pleasure-seekers. The fact is, I've nothing to do but to hate
holidays. But will you not dine with me?"
Of course, I had to plead engagement with my own family circle, and I
couldn't quite invite Mr. Bluff home that day, when Cousin Charles and
his wife, and Sister Susan and her daughter, and three of my wife's kin
had come in from the country, all to make a merry Christmas with us. I
felt sorry, but it was quite impossible, so I wished Mr. Bluff a "Merry
Christmas," and hurried homeward through the cold and nipping air.
I did not meet Bachelor Bluff again until a week after Christmas of the
next year, when I learned some strange particulars of what occurred to
him after our parting on the occasion just described. I will let
Bachelor Bluff tell his adventure for himself.
"I went to church," said he, "and was as sad there as everywhere else.
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