The Christmas Beggar

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"Oh heavenly powers restore him!" (Hamlet III.i). Many times in a lifetime, one begs and beseeches the heavenly powers to change, restore or reinstitute an event before its catastrophic ending. It was a cold night, icy winds were blowing along 23rd Street, strollers were few; only a few drunkards and vagabonds who had found comfort in the canner of a doorway; their long, ragged coats wrapped around them because it had no buttons; holding themselves by the shoulders, they rocked while they chatted. A few found refuge in the remnants of a demolished building and had built a fire to warm themselves. They were standing with their hands extended on the fire; letting the flames lick their fingers, one of them was taking gulps out of a battle; then whipping his mouth with his free hand; making a raspy sound each time his sleeve slid over his beard. Their disheveled hair, lines of hardship engraved faces, and their monstrous shadows created by the dancing flames, made them look like witches out of Macbeth.

It was the night before Christmas. I had gone to the Po...

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