his wife, and Sister Susan and her daughter and three of my wife's kin,
had come in from the country, all to make a merry Christmas with us. I
felt sorry, but it was quite impossible, so I wished Mr. Bluff a "merry
Christmas," and hurried homeward through the cold and nipping air.

I did not meet Bachelor Bluff again until a week after Christmas of the
next year, when I learned some strange particulars of what occurred to
him after our parting on the occasion just described. I will let
Bachelor Bluff tell his adventure for himself:

"I went to church," said he, "and was as sad there as everywhere else.
Of course, the evergreens were pretty, and the music fine; but all
around me were happy groups of people, who could scarcely keep down
_merry_ Christmas long enough to do reverence to _sacred_ Christmas. And
nobody was alone but me. Every happy paterfamilias in his pew tantalized
me, and the whole atmosphere of the place seemed so much better suited
to every one else than me that I came away hating holidays worse than
ever. Then I went to the play, and sat down in a box all alone by
myself. Everybody seemed on the best of terms with everybody else, and
jokes and banter passed from one to another with the most good-natured
freedom. Everybody but me was in a little group of friends. I was the
only person in the whole theater that was alone. And then there was such
clapping of hands, and roars of laughter, and shouts of delight at all
the fun going on upon the stage, all of which was rendered doubly
enjoyable by everybody having somebody with whom to share and
interchange the pleasure, that my loneliness got simply unbearable, and
I hated holidays infinitely worse than ever.

"By five o'clock the holiday became so intolerable that I said I'd go
and get a dinner. The best dinner the town could provide. A sumptuous
dinner. A sumptuous dinner for one. A dinner with many courses, with
wines of the finest brands, with bright lights, with a cheerful fire,
with every condition of comfort--and I'd see if I couldn't for once
extract a little pleasure out of a holiday!

"The handsome dining-room at the club looked bright, but it was empty.
Who dines at this club on Christmas but lonely bachelors? There was a
flutter of surprise when I ordered a dinner, and the few attendants
were, no doubt, glad of something to break the monotony of the hours.

"My dinner was well served. The spacious room looked lonely; but the
white, snowy clot