"Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still."--SCOTT. "Lor! Lor! what a night it is any way. Since I was first born, and that's thirty-five--no, forty-five years come next June, I never heern sich win' as that there, fit to tear the roof off! Well, this is Christmas Eve, and we ginerally do hev a spell o' weather 'bout this time. Here you Fly! Fly! you little black imp you! if you don't stop that falling asleep over the fire, and stir your lazy stumps, I'll tie you up and give you such a switchin' as you never had in all your born days. Ar-r-r-r! there I vow to Sam if that derned old tabby cat hain't got her nose stuck into the …
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