CHRISTMAS IN ALASKA. 
273 
sion of the city, whitening roofs and pavements, muffling 
every footfall and wheel-rattle, filling the streets up to 
their slaty brims with whirling mists of sleety snow, and 
roaring furiously through the tree-tops and around cor- 
ners. As Mr. Broadstreet gazed through his frosty loop- 
hole, with mind full of the story he had just finished, he 
fancied he could discern the shadowy forms of old Marley 
and his fellow-ghosts moaning and wringing their hands 
as they swept past in trailing white robes. 
He turned away with a half-shiver, and once more 
ensconced himself in his warm easy-chair, taking up the 
Carol as he did so, and turning its leaves carelessly until 
he came to a picture of the Ghost of Christmas Present. 
It was wonderfully well drawn, following the text with 
great care, and hitting off the idea of the jovial, holly- 
crowned spirit to the very life. And then the heap of 
good things that lay in generous piles about the room ! 
Mr. Broadstreet could almost catch a whiff of fragrance 
from the turkeys and geese and spicy boughs. Indeed, 
so strong was the illusion that he involuntarily glanced 
over his shoulder at the marble-topped table near by, half 
expecting to see an appetizing dish of eatables at his side. 
No one had entered, however, and the table was as usual, 
with only its album and gilt-mounted screen, flanked by 
a few books that were too choice to be hidden away on 
the library shelves. When he looked back at the picture 
in the book, he started and rubbed his eyes. He thought 
— but it could not have been possible — that the central 
