from the foe's embraces, they had
thumped, and banged, and hammered, and scolded them into place, and, in
undignified haste, had betaken themselves, steaming warm breath through
their fingers, into their proper and respective places by the
counting-house fire.

The magic--so it seemed in its effects--tolling of a deep-toned bell in
the neighborhood would not allow them to doze long in their warm nooks,
but, like the jealous monster in the fairy-tale, kept its captives
always going, going, going, for its sixth stroke had not died away
before they began to appear again, this time with the addition of fur
hats and little dinner-baskets, and with no perceptible noses--unless
the existence of watery eyes above their mufflers argued the missing
features to be in their proper places below--and with an accelerated
gait--also an act of enchantment.

William, of No. 6, bawled as loud as his worsted gag would permit across
the street (so termed by a figure of rhetoric) to James, of No. 7:

"Hello, Jim! Cold as blazes, ain't it?"

James, of No. 7, assenting, Thomas, of No. 4, would like to know "How
blazes can be cold, now?"

William, of No. 6, would say "as thunder," if that would suit him any
better; and as it appeared to do so they, with half a dozen others,
breasted the wind and trudged out into the blustery streets beyond.

The merchants, too, had locked their doors, and tried their knobs, and
looked up at the faces of their stores as if to say, "Merry Christmas to
you, and I wish you a pleasant day to-morrow!" but in reality to see
that all was fast, and perchance to indulge in a comfortable survey of
their snug little properties--and the complacent tread with which they
followed the porters gives color to the suspicion--and draw from it
momentum for the enjoyment of the morrow's holiday.

The shutters, then, were up--stop, not all up! One, as you may see by
the shaft of gas-light that has just fallen across the pavement near the
top of the court, is still down.

The little square window through which the light eddies on the bricks is
supported on either side by a heavy door, and all three, the two doors
and the window, are in turn crowned and anointed on the head, as it
were, by a very bold sign containing very brazen--in every sense of the
word--letters which announced pompously, like some servants of similar
metallic qualities, the name of their master.

Emanuel Griffin--the tongue uncontrollably adds Esquire--wa