1 The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from.
2 There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley.
3 This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
4 The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.
5 The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect.
6 I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade.
7 Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names.
8 Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house.
9 But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for.
10 He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
11 To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge.
12 To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that nature lived hard by and was brewing on a large scale.
13 The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that, although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms.
14 And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
15 The City clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already--it had not been light all day--and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air.
16 It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them.
17 If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot--say St. Paul's Church-yard, for instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
Your search result may include more than 17 sentences. If you upgrade to a VIP account, you will see up to 500 sentences for one search.