XXXVIII. THAT OF JEREMIAH SCOLES, MISER.

I sing of joys, and junketings,

Of holly, and of such-like things;

I sing of merry mistletoe,

And,—pardon me,—I sing also

Of Jeremiah Scoles.

I sing of Mister Scoles because

So singular a man he was,

And had so very strange a way

Of celebrating Christmas Day—

Unlike all other souls.

Myself, I am a cheerful man,

Enjoying life as best I can.

At Christmas-time I love to see

The flow of mirth and jollity

About the festive board;

I love to dance, I try to sing;

On enemies, like anything,

At Christmas-time I heap hot coals,

But not so Jeremiah Scoles—

He loves a miser's hoard.

I chanced one year, on Christmas Day,

To call upon him, just to say

That we'd be very pleased to see

Him, if he'd care to come to tea.

I found him quite alone.

He sat before a fireless grate;

The room looked bare and desolate,

And he, unkempt, in dressing-gown,

Received me with an angry frown,

And spoke in surly tone.

"Ha! what d'ye want?" said he to me

And eyed me most suspiciously.

I laughed and gave a hearty smack

Upon the grumpy fellow's back,

And cried: "Come home with me.

We'll treat you well. There's lots of fun—"

But ere I scarcely had begun

He cut me short. "Pooh! folly! stuff!

See here; I've fun—quite fun enough!"

He laughed, but mirthlessly.

Before him on the table lay

Gold, silver, coppers, in array;

Some empty bottles; stacks of bills;

Some boxes for containing pills—

And that was all. Said he:

"This gold is what I haven't spent

In presents; and the silver's meant

To show what could be wasted in—

Pah!—Christmas boxes. 'Tis a sin

I don't encourage—no, not me?

"The coppers—little boys, no doubt,

Would like 'em—they may go without;

While these long bills I should have had

From tradesmen, had I been so mad

As to have bought the things

They represent for Christmas cheer;

These bottles and pill-boxes here

Show what I will not have to take,

Because I'll have no stomach-ache

That over-eating brings.

"And thus I spend my Christmas Day,

Thinking what silly fools are they

Who spend so much in solid cash

On so much sentimental trash.

And now, good-day to you!"

He showed me out, he banged the door,

And I was—where I was before.

* * *

I really think, upon my word,

His line of reasoning's most absurd.

No doubt you think so, too?