"That bowl of punch!" : what it did, and how it did it : six Christmas stories . d me to lay hold of it and makeit do its duty. Add a tumbler of rum, a tumbler of brandy, some nutmeg—half a tea-spoonfu!—and mix discreetly. Then spice it according to was finished at last. There it stood upon the table, its hot breath heavy with the odours ofIndian spices, and offering up its incense of vapour, while it ladened theair with delicious aromas. Again and again the ancient ladle did its duty. Then the sparksglowed in the bowls of the mist-compelling meerschaums, and there rolledto the ceilin
"That bowl of punch!" : what it did, and how it did it : six Christmas stories . d me to lay hold of it and makeit do its duty. Add a tumbler of rum, a tumbler of brandy, some nutmeg—half a tea-spoonfu!—and mix discreetly. Then spice it according to was finished at last. There it stood upon the table, its hot breath heavy with the odours ofIndian spices, and offering up its incense of vapour, while it ladened theair with delicious aromas. Again and again the ancient ladle did its duty. Then the sparksglowed in the bowls of the mist-compelling meerschaums, and there rolledto the ceiling thick, wreathing clouds of fragrant tobacco smoke. The cold, polished, immaculate poker and tongs had forgotten their ac-customed mathematical neatness, and lay honestly begrimed with unwontedlabour, while the fire entered int j the spirit of the thing, and crackled,and roared and tossed its tiny sparks up the chimney in wild and exuberant glee. How could we leave such a merry companion to take our placesat the card-table? The thing was impossible. 8 THAT BOWL OF FUNCHI. Look here, boys, said Barrington, lets do as the Christmas Annualfellows always do, when down in a diving bell, or up in a balloon, or snow-bound at a village inn, each man tell a tale or sing a song. It was agreed upon. Then came the momentous question—who shouldbegin - and seeing a good deal of hesitation amongst us, Walter Holbrooke,who was never backward in coming forward, started with a relation of howhe spent CHRISTMAS DAY WITH A VENGEANCE. SHUT the ledger with a bang, locked up the cash-box,and gave the keys of the board-room to our antediluvianhousekeeper with a happy new year, and a more thanusually liberal largess to help her to spend one, and I,Walter Holbrooke, secretary to the Philanthropic Associationfor the promotion of the emigration of paupers to Figi-land,hurried off to catch the mid day train from St. Pancras to thenorth, for I was bound a Christmassing to an old farmhouseamong the hi
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpublishertoron, bookyear1872
