Christmas Carol 02 recto
Here you can see all page revisions and compare the changes have been made in each revision. Left column shows the page title and transcription in the selected revision, right column shows what have been changed. Unchanged text is highlighted in white, deleted text is highlighted in red, and inserted text is highlighted in green color.
19 revisions | Nicole_HC at Apr 13, 2022 08:57 PM | |
---|---|---|
Christmas Carol 02 recto2 stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door—Scrooge and Marley: The Oh! But he was a tight-fisted External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely; and Scrooge never did. Nobody ever stopped him But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call “nuts”—to Scrooge. Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting House. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the | Christmas Carol 02 recto2 stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door—Scrooge and Marley: The Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! A grinding External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely; and Scrooge never did. Nobody ever stopped him But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call “nuts”—to Scrooge. Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting House. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the |