The Holly-Tree

ody sa

perience, everybody has been wrong so often, and it has taken, in most instances, such a weary while to find out how wrong, that the auth

ord, Ghost,

. The extent of my present claim for everyb

and well-proportioned; his grizzled hair hanging, like tangled sea-weed, about his face,-as if he had been, through his whole l

tiring always and jocund never, with a distraught air of reverting to a bygone place and time, or

a natural fulness and melody in it which he seemed to set himself aga

uments and books; the shadow of his shaded lamp a monstrous beetle on the wall, motionless among a crowd of spectral shapes raised there by the flickering of the fire upon the quaint objects around him; some of these phantoms (the reflection of glass vessels that held liquids), trembling at heart like things that knew his p

ve believed that everything about him took this h

streets and buildings, which, in course of time, had been constructed above its heavy chimney stalks; its old trees, insulted by the neighbouring smoke, which deigned to droop so low when it was very feeble and the weather very moody; its grass-plots, struggling with the mildewed earth to be grass, or to win any show of compromise; its silent pavements, unaccustomed to the tread of feet, and even to the ob

great oak chimney-piece; so environed and hemmed in by the pressure of the town yet so remote in fashion, age, and custom; so quiet, yet so thundering with echoes when a distant voice was raised or a door was sh

his dwelling about twiligh

he streets bent down their heads and ran before the weather. When those who were obliged to meet it, were stopped at angry corners, stung by wandering snow-flakes alighting on the lashes of their eyes,-which fell too sparingly, and were blown away too quickly, to leave a trace upon the frozen ground. When windows of priva

nd headlands, showed solitary and watchful; and benighted sea-birds breasted on against their ponderous lanterns, and fell dead. When little readers of story-books, by the firelight, trembled to think of Cassim Baba cut into quarters, hanging in the Robb

trees, were lost to view, in masses of impenetrable shade. When mists arose from dyke, and fen, and river. When lights in old halls and in cottage windows, were a cheerful sight. When the mill stopped, the wheelwright and the blacksmith shut their wo

apartments. When they danced upon the floors, and walls, and ceilings of inhabited chambers, while the fire was low, and withdrew like ebbing waters when it sprang into a blaze. When they fantastically mocked the shapes of household objects, making the nurse an ogress, t

es. When they stole from their retreats, in the likenesses of forms and faces from the past, from the gra

shadows went and came. When he took no heed of them, with his bodily eyes; but, let

ometimes crooning, sometimes howling, in the house. When the old trees outside were so shaken and beaten, that one querulous old rook, unable to sleep, protested now and then, in a feeble, dozy, high-up "Caw!"

door, in short, as he was

?" said he.

ing footstep touched the floor, as he lifted up his head, with a start, and spoke. And yet there was no mirror in the

d a wooden tray he carried, and letting it go again by very gentle and careful degrees, when he and the tray had got in, lest

Ay! I have hea

got home at all. Oh dear, yes. Yes. It

he desisted in a hurry, to stir and feed the fire, and then resumed it; the lamp he had lighted, and the blaze that rose under his hand, so quickly

me, sir, to be taken off her balance by the

Redlaw good-natured

balance by Air; as being once over-persuaded by a friend to try a swing at Peckham Fair, which acted on her constitution instantly like a steam-boat. Mrs. William may be taken off her balance by Fire; as on a false alarm of engines at her mother's, when she went two miles in her nightcap. Mrs. Will

, the reply was "Yes," in

them. "That's where it is, sir. That's what I always say myself, sir. Such a many of us Swidgers!-Pepper. Why there's

atient and abstracted answ

lliam, Swidgers both.-Knife and fork. Then you come to all my brothers and their families, Swidgers, man and woman, boy and girl. Why, what with cousins, uncles, aunts, and r

roached, him nearer, and made a feint of accidentally knocking the table with a decanter,

'-Butter. In fact, sir, my father is a family in himself-Castors-to take care of; and it happens all for the best that we have no child of our own, though it's

ther, waking as from a dream,

ming a plate at the fire, and pleasantly shading his face with it. Mr. Red

it! There's a motherly feeling in Mrs. Wil

has sh

ety of parts, to attend your courses of lectures at this ancient foundation-its surprising how stone-cha

said Mr.

nd have all got something to tell her, or something to ask her. 'Swidge' is the appellation by which they speak of Mrs. William in general, among themselves, I'm told; but that's what I say, sir. Better be called ever so far out of your name, if it's done in real liking, than have it made ever so much of, and not cared about! What's a

alf dropped it, with a lively sense of its being thoroughly heated, just as the subject of his praises ent

in the most exact and quiet manner imaginable. Whereas Mr. William's very trousers hitched themselves up at the ankles, as if it were not in their iron-grey nature to rest without looking about them, Mrs. William's neatly-flowered skirts-red and white, like her own pretty face-were as composed and orderly, as if the very wind that blew so hard out of doors could not disturb one of their folds. Whereas his coat had something of a fly-

t wouldn't be you. Here's Mrs. William, sir!-He looks lonelier than ever to-nigh

ly set the dishes she had brought upon the table,-Mr. William, after much clattering and runnin

his arms?" asked Mr. Redlaw, as

eplied the quie

lliam, striking in with the butter-boat. "Berries

idly jumbles all together, and rubs all out. So, Philip!" breaking off, and raising his voice as he addressed the old man, standing apart, with his glistening burden in his arms, from which

edlaw-proud to say-and wait till spoke to! Merry Christmas, sir, and Happy New Year, and many of 'em.

that were merry and ha

so many," retur

to be expected now," said Mr. Redlaw,

was such a memory as my father's. He's the most wonderful man in the world. He don't know what forge

vents, delivered this as if there were no iota of contradiction

he table, walked across the room to where the old man

old and new, then?" he said, observing him attent

ip, half awaking from his

ked the Chemist in a low voic

it was, out a-walking, when some one-it was my mother as sure as you stand there, though I don't know what her blessed face was like, for she took ill and died that Christmas-time-told me they were food for bird

ark eyes upon the stooping figure, with a smile o

ll the merry-making that used to come along with them. I was a strong chap then, Mr. Redlaw; and, if you'll believe me, ha

son promptly, and with great respect. "You ARE

r, when the berries like these were not shining half so bright all round us, as their bright faces. Many of 'em are gone; she's gone; and my son George (our eldest, who was her pride more than all the rest!

upon him with so much earnestnes

dealt by, and I first come here to be custodian," said the old man, "-which was upwar

utifully as before, "that's exactly where it is. Two times ough

will, among the other bequests he made us, so much to buy holly, for garnishing the walls and windows, come Christmas. There was something homely and friendly in it. Being but strange here, then, and coming at Christmas time, we took a liking for his very picter that hangs in what used t

rtrait hangs t

now, and freshening up the bare rooms with these branches and berries, freshens up my bare old brain. One year brings back another, and that year another, and those others numbers! At last

y," murmured Re

gan to dark

spoke, "I have plenty to keep, when I keep this present season. Now, where's my quiet Mouse? Chattering's the sin of my time of life, and t

face to his side, and silently taken

dinner, otherwise, till it's cold as the winter. I hope you'll excuse me

ld keeper, than in any remembrance of his own appetite. "Spare me another moment, Philip. William, you were going to te

William Swidger, looking towards his wife in considera

afraid of Mrs.

ade to be afraid of. It wouldn't have been made so mild, if that was the int

the objects upon it, directed persuasive glances at Mrs. William, and sec

gs. Tell, my dear! You're the works of Shakespeare in comparison

ted Mr. Redlaw,

sent. "If it wasn't the poor student down in the Buildings, why should you

ouldn't have come. I asked him not to. It's a sick young gentleman, sir-and very poor, I am afraid-who is too ill to go home this holid

rriedly. "Why has he not made his situation known to me? Sic

ing her father-in-law, and calmly confronting him

go th

d as at a most manifest and self-evident i

you mean?

d never have made his situation known to one of his own sex. Mrs. Williams has got into his confidence, but that's quite different. They all

r. Redlaw, observant of the gentle and composed face at his shoulder. A

giving it back again. "Worse and

f this rejection, that, an instant afterwards, she was tidily picking up a few leaves wh

regarding her with doubt and astonishment, she quietly repeated-looking abou

ou, or receive help from you-though he is a student in your class. I have

id he

ow; and I wanted to be useful to him in making things neat and comfortable about him, and employed mysel

here was a very heavy gloom and shadow

about him

udying, I think, to qualify himself to earn a living. I have seen, a long t

"There's a chill and dismal feeling in the room. Where's my so

ed, like quiet musi

to herself) "about some one dead, and some great wrong done that could never be for

s ear, "has done him worlds of good! Bless you, worlds of good! All at home just the same as ever-my father made as snug and comfortable-not a crumb of litter to be found in the house, if you wer

, and the gloom and shadow gather

door-step. What does Mrs. William do, but brings it home to dry it, and feed it, and keep it till our old Bounty of food and flannel is given away, on Christmas morning! If it ever felt a fire before, it's as much as ever

! and you, William! I must consider what to do in this. I may desire

id last year and the year afore. Ha ha! I remember-though I'm eighty-seven! 'Lord, keep my memory green!' It's a very good prayer, Mr. Redlaw, that of the learned gentleman in the peaked beard, with a ruff round h

r carefully withheld, fired a long train of thundering re

one, the healthy holly withered on

ing so darkly, it took, by slow degrees,-or out of it there came, by some unreal, un

his dress, it came into his terrible appearance of existence, motionless, without a sound. As he leaned his arm upon the elbow of his chair, ruminating before the

d passed and gone already. This was t

e Christmas Waits were playing somewhere in the distance, and, through his

without moving or

gain!"

," replied

ed man; "I hear you in music, in the wi

moved its he

come, to hau

m called," rep

n," exclaime

id the Spectre. "It

face-both addressed towards it, as at first, and neither looking at the other. But, now, the haunted man turned, su

mpty old pile of building, on a winter night, with the loud wind going by upon its journey of mystery-whence or whither, no man knowing since the world be

strove and suffered, and still strove and suffered, until I hewed out knowledge from the mi

an," returne

t a child, and I was easily an alien from my mother's heart. My parents, at the best, were of that sort whose care soon ends, and whose du

ad him with its look, and with the ma

m-won him-bound him to me! We worked together, side by side. All the love and confidence

said Redlaw

urned the Phantom.

le, drew closer to the chair, and resting its chin upon its folded hands, its folded hands upon the

she was, how fair, how loving! I took her to the first poor roof that I was master of, and

r in music, in the wind, in the dead stilln

hink he did, once. I am sure he did. Better had she loved him less-less s

st, with an angry motion of his ha

d with its unwinking, cruel eyes

hers, stole upo

," said

y. I loved her far too well, to seek to do it. But, more than ever I had striven in my life, I strove to climb! Only an inch gained, brought me something nearer to the height. I toiled up! In the

hey come back to me in music, in the wind, in the d

wife of my dear friend, on equal terms-for he had some inheritance, we none-pictures of our sobered age and mellowed happiness,

"that were delusions. Why is it

ked as in my own), passing between me and the centre of the system of my hopes and struggles, won her to himself, and shattered my frail universe. My siste

gentle as ever; happy; and with no

watched hi

ve so long outlived, I think of it with sympathy, as if it were a younger brother's or a son's. Sometimes I even wonder when her heart first inclined to him, and how it had been affec

a Wrong. Thus I prey upon myself. Thus, memory is my curs

g, with a wrathful hand, at the throat of his oth

pectre in an awful voice.

t. It had glided from him; it had its arm raised high in warning; and a smil

I would," the Ghost repeated. "If I coul

nted man, in a low, trembling tone, "my l

cho," said

It is not a selfish thought. I suffer it to range beyond myself. All men and women have their sorrows,-most of them their wrongs;

d be happier and better f

l! Are there any minds in which they do not re-awaken some sorrow, or some trouble? What

ssy face, "unenlightened minds and ordinary spirits, do not feel or reas

n words can express, and from whom some dim foreshadowing of greater fear

turned the Ghost. "Hear what I offer! Forget t

hem!" he

e but very faint, confused traces of them, that will

he dim fear you cast upon me deepens into a nameless horror I can hardly bear.-I would not deprive myself of any kindly recollectio

chain of feelings and associations, each in its turn dependent o

said the haunted man

music, in the wind, in the dead stillness of the night,

thing

om held i

ent, for a little while, it move

, "before the opp

ne, I have made too much of all that was and might have been, and too little of what is, the evil, I believe, has fallen on me, and not on others. But, if there were poison in my body,

the Spectre,

thousands upon thousands, generation after generation? All human memory is fraught with sorrow and trouble. My memory is as the m

the Spectre,

t

like in all whom you approach. Your wisdom has discovered that the memory of sorrow, wrong, and trouble is the lot of all mankind, and that mankind would be the happier, in its other memories, without it. Go! Be its benefact

e ban; and which had gradually advanced its eyes so close to his, that he could see how they did not participate

er and fainter, the words, "Destroy its like in all whom you approach!" a shrill cry reached his ears. It came, not from the passage

of his identity, and then shouted in reply, loudly and wildly; for

out of the theatre where he lectured,-which adjoined his room. Associated with youth and animation, and a high amphitheatre of faces which his en

one hand, and with the other raised the lamp and tried to pierce the gloom that filled the

t?" he sai

e seen it well, as presently he did when he

zen years, but pinched and twisted by the experiences of a life. Bright eyes, but not youthful. Naked feet, beautiful in their childish delicacy,-ugly in the blood and dirt that cracked u

boy crouched down as he was looked at, and looked back a

he said, "i

g the Chemist's heart. He looked upon it now, coldly; but with a heavy effort to remembe

he replied. "I want

ho

arge fire. She was so long gone, that I went to look for

e dull sound of his naked feet upon the floor was n

gling, and clenching his teeth. "I've done not

him, in the same blank effort to remember some association that oug

t n

do yo

What'

then, twisting round his legs and wrestling with him, broke again into

ing at him still confusedly, but with repugnance and avoid

ering round the room, lighted on the tab

of that!" he s

e not f

to-morrow, sha'n't I? A

e some small animal of prey, and hugging to his breas

take me to

h him, sternly motioned him to follow, and was

iven, you shall give ag

lowing in the wind, and th

-night. Boy! straight down this long-arched passage, and past the great

fire?" inqu

ith his lamp, locked his door hastily, and sat down in his ch

, indeed, alon