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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"The Cricket on the Hearth"


'Is it over?' cried Dot.
'Yes!'
'Happily over?'
'Yes!'
'Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear the
like of it before?' cried Dot.
'If my boy in the Golden South Americas was alive'--said Caleb,
trembling.
'He is alive!' shrieked Dot, removing her hands from his eyes, and
clapping them in ecstasy; 'look at him! See where he stands before
you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son! Your own dear living,
loving brother, Bertha
All honour to the little creature for her transports! All honour
to her tears and laughter, when the three were locked in one
another's arms! All honour to the heartiness with which she met
the sunburnt sailor-fellow, with his dark streaming hair, half-way,
and never turned her rosy little mouth aside, but suffered him to
kiss it, freely, and to press her to his bounding heart!
And honour to the Cuckoo too--why not!--for bursting out of the
trap-door in the Moorish Palace like a house-breaker, and
hiccoughing twelve times on the assembled company, as if he had got
drunk for joy!
The Carrier, entering, started back.


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