Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea--on, on--until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him."
Merry Christmas, to our members, readers, contributors, editors, and backstage crew. It's the third Ricochet Christmas -- of many, many more, I hope -- and if you're a member, we thank you.
If you're a reader, we thank you (and hope you'll become a member this year! -- remember: you get a year's worth of National Review on PDF when you do).
There's more to come in 2013. We've all got a country to win back. But while we do that, we thank you for joining us, we hope to see more of you next year, and in the meantime, we wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas.