Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-12-25
GRUB AND THE GOBLINS,
4 CHRISTMAS STORY.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.

In an old abbey town, down in this part
of the country, a long, long while ago-so
long that the story must be a true one
because our great grandfathers implicitly
believed it-there ot1iciated as sexton
and grave-digger in the church-yard one
Gabriel Grub. 1t by no means follows
that because man is a sexton, and con-
stautly surrounded by emblems of NOR
tality. therefore he should be a morose and
melancholy man; your undertakers are the
merriest fellows in the world, and [ once
had the honor of being on intimate terms
with mute, who in private life and of
duty, was as comicai and jocose a little
fellow as even chirped out devil may care
song without q hitch in his memsry, OF
drained OFF q glass of grog without stop
ping for breath. But, notwithstanding
these precedents to the contrary, Gabriel
Grub was an ili-conaitioned, cross-grained
surly fellow morose and lonely man
who consorted with nobody but himself
and an old wicker bottle which fitted into
his large, deep waistcoat pocket; and who
eyed each merry face as it passed him by.
with such deep scowI of malice and ill
humor as it was difficult to meet without
feeling something the worse for.
"A little before twilight ono Christmas
eve, Gabriel shouldered his spade, lighted
his lantern, and betook himself towards
the old church-yard, for he had got grave
to finish by the next morning, and feeling
very low, he thought it might raise his
spirits, pehaps, if he went on with his work
at once. AS he wendell his way up the an
ciont street, he saw the cheerful light of
the blazing fires CLEAN through the old
easements, and heard the loud laugh and
the cheerful shouts of those who were
assembled around them; he marked the
busting preparations for next days good
cheer, and smelt the numerous savory odors
consequent thereupon, as they steamed up
from the kitchen windows in clouds. All
this was gall and NORWOOD to the heart of
Gabriel Grub; and as groups of children
bounded out of the houses, tripped across
the road, and were met, before they could
knock at the opposite door, by half doz-
en- curly headed little >rascals, who crowded
round them as they fiocked up stairs to
spend the evening in their Christmas
games. Gabriel smiled grimly and clutched
the handle of his spade with frmer
grasp, as he thought of measles, scarlet
fever, thrush, whooping-cough, and good
many other sources of consolation besides
SIN this happy frame of mind, Gabriel
strobe along. returning short, sullen
growl to the good-humored greetings of
his nelghbors as now and then passed him,
until he turned into the dark lane which led
to the churchyard. Now Gabriel had been
looking forward to reaching the dark lane,
because it was, generally speaking, nice,
gloomy, mournful place, into which the
town's-people did not much care to go, ex-
cept in broad daylight, and when the sun
was shining; consequently he was not
little indignant to hear young urchin
roaring out some jolly song about merry
Christmas, in this very sanctuary, which
had been called Coffin Lane ever since the
days of the old abbey, and the time of the
SHAY en-headed monks. As Gabriel walked
on, and the voice drew nearer, he found it
proceeded from small boy, who was hur-
rying along to join one of the little parties
in the old street, and who, partly to keep
himself company, and partly to prepare
himself for the occasion, was shouting out
the song at the highest pitch of his lungs.
So Gabriel waited till the boy came up,
and then lodged him into corner. and
raped him over the head with his latnern
five or six times, just to teach him to mod
crate his voice. And as the boy hurried
away with his hand to his head, singing
quite different sort of tune, Gabriel
Grub chuckled very heartily to himself
and entered the churchyard, locking the
gate behind him.
''He took off his coat, set down his Ian
tern, and getting into the unfinished grave,
worked at it for an hour or so, with right
good good will. But the earth was hard
ened with frost,and it was no very easy mat
ter to break it up, and shovel it out; and
although there was a moon, it was a very
young one, and shed little light upon the
grave, which was in the shadow of the
church. At any other time, these OBJ
stacles would have made Gabriel Grub very
moody and miserable, but he was so we'll
pleased with having stopped the small boys
singing, that he took little heed of the
scanty progress he had made, and looked
down into the grave when he had finished
work for the night, with grim satisfaction,
murmering as he gathered up the things
Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one.
A few feet of cold earth, when life is done;
A stone at the head, stone at the feet,
A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat;
Rank grass overhead and damp clay around,
Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground.
clio! no: laughed Gabriel Grub. as he
sat himself down on a fiat tobstone,
which was a favorite resting place of his;
and drew forth his wicker bottle. "A
coffin at Christmas-a Christm as box. Ho!
no! HOP
"'Ho! no! no. repeated voice which
sounded close behind him.
Gabriel paused in some alarm in the
act of raising the wicker bottle to his lips,
and looked round. The bottom of the old
est grave about him, was not more still
and qaiet than the church-yard, in the