- 游氣風信 Ｎｏ，１３５ ２００１，３，１ 物語は楽し
in our first 20 years, we eat, sleep, play, enjoy the best and do nothing much. for the next 30 years, we work all day long, suffer and get to support the family.
- Happy Christmas
happy christmas
- クリスマス・キャロル
in came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. in came mrs fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. in came the three miss fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. in came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. in came all the young men and women employed in the business. in came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. in came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. in came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. in they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. away they all went, twenty couples at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them. when this result was brought about, old fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out,' well done.' and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. but scorning rest, upon his reappearance, he instantly began again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.
- クリスマス・キャロル
it was a habit with scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. pondering on what the ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.
'you must have been very slow about it, jacob,' scrooge observed, in a business-like manner, though with humility and deference.
'slow!' the ghost repeated.
'seven years dead,' mused scrooge. 'and travelling all the time!'
'the whole time,' said the ghost. 'no rest, no peace. incessant torture of remorse.'
'you travel fast?' said scrooge.
'on the wings of the wind,' replied the ghost.
'you might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,' said scrooge.
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