Рождественская история

           Sodidtheroom,thefire,theruddyglow,thehourofnight,andtheystoodinthecitystreetsonChristmasmorning,where(fortheweatherwassevere)thepeoplemadearough,butbriskandnotunpleasantkindofmusic,inscrapingthesnowfromthepavementinfrontoftheirdwellings,andfromthetopsoftheirhouses,whenceitwasmaddelighttotheboystoseeitcomeplumpingdownintotheroadbelow,andsplittingintoartificiallittlesnow-storms.

           Thehousefrontslookedblackenough,andthewindowsblacker,contrastingwiththesmoothwhitesheetofsnowupontheroofs,andwiththedirtiersnowupontheground;whichlastdeposithadbeenploughedupindeepfurrowsbytheheavywheelsofcartsandwaggons;furrowsthatcrossedandrecrossedeachotherhundredsoftimeswherethegreatstreetsbranchedoff;andmadeintricatechannels,hardtotraceinthethickyellowmudandicywater.Theskywasgloomy,andtheshorteststreetswerechokedupwithadingymist,halfthawed,halffrozen,whoseheavierparticlesdescendedinashowerofsootyatoms,asifallthechimneysinGreatBritainhad,byoneconsent,caughtfire,andwereblazingawaytotheirdearhearts’content.Therewasnothingverycheerfulintheclimateorthetown,andyetwasthereanairofcheerfulnessabroadthattheclearestsummerairandbrightestsummersunmighthaveendeavouredtodiffuseinvain.