Mystery of Burt's Babby
Mak th' best on't.
Mrs Spaiktruth's Pairty.
Why Tommy isn't a Deacon.
One Amang th' Rest.
What's yor Hurry?
Ha Owd Stooansnatch's Dowter gate Wed.
Th' New Railrooad.
Mose Hart's Twelvth Mess.
Th' Hoil-i'th'-Hill Statty.
Owd Dawdles.
Property Huntin'.
Abraham's Sparrib.
A Run ovver th' Year.

Frozen to Death

Or the Cottage on the Hill.

A Christmas Story.

CHAPTER I.

The last strain of the grand old Christmas hymn had just been warbled
forth from the throats and hearts of a number of happy folks, who were
seated around the blazing log one Christmas eve; and on the face of each
one of that family circle the cheering light revealed the look of
happiness; the young--happy in the present, and indulging in hopeful
anticipations for the future; the old,--equally happy as the young, and
revelling in many a darling memory of the past.

"Come, Uncle John!" said a bright-eyed, flaxen-haired beauty, over whose
head not more than ten Christmas days had passed,--"Come, uncle, _do_
tell us a story; you know that we always expect one from you."

"Well, my pretty little niece," he replied, "I fear that I have
exhausted all my store of ghosts and hobgoblins, and if I tell you a
story now, it must be from the cold, stern world of fact, which, I fear,
will be less interesting to you than the romantic fictions I have
rehearsed on former occasions."

"Oh dear, no! tell us a story, a true story--we shall be all the more
delighted to know that we are listening to an account of what has really
occurred. Do begin at once, please".

Knocking the ashes from the bowl of his pipe, and having carefully
reared it against the hob, he commenced:--

"The factory bells had just ceased ringing, and the whistles had given
out their last shrieks, like the expiring yells of some agonized demon,
as the old church clock drowsily tolled the hour of six, on one of the
most miserable of December mornings. High on a bleak hill stood a little
whitewashed cottage, from the door of which issued two children,
apparently about ten years of age. As they stept into the cold morning
air they shuddered, and drew their scanty garments closer around them.

"Nah, yo'll ha' to luk sharp! yond's th' last whew!--yo've nobbut
fifteen minutes," cried a voice from within.

It was with great difficulty that the little couple succeeded in
reaching the high road, for the ground was covered with ice, on which a
continual sleet f