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HOLLY AND THE GHOST OF
CHRISTMAS PRESENT

THE CHRISTMAS CAROLS

KATE TILNEY
Copyright © 2022 by Kate Tilney

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission
in writing from the author.

Check out the rest of the series!

 CONTENTS

The Christmas Carols

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue

Series by Kate Tilney

 THE CHRISTMAS CAROLS

The Christmas Carols is a contemporary twist on a beloved holiday

classic. Three sisters are each visited by a spirit who guides them to
true love with help from their past, present, and future, just in time
for Christmas. This sweet and steamy holiday romance can be read
as a standalone but is best enjoyed as a trio.

Ivy and the Ghost of Christmas Past by Kali Hart

Holly and the Ghost of Christmas Present by Kate Tilney
Merry and the Ghost of Christmas Future by Lana Dash
 ONE

HOLLY

Ending the call, I stare at my phone in disbelief.

Ivy, my older-than-me-by-ten-minutes sister, is apparently—and
inexplicably—in Alaska. Not only that, but tomorrow morning I’m
driving my younger-than-me-by-ten-minutes sister Merry—or Mere
for short—to the airport so she can attend a wedding in Vermont.
Meanwhile, I’m standing outside a parking garage in downtown
Denver trying not to freeze my toes off.
And it’s December 21st.
The unimaginable is happening. For the first time in our twenty-
seven years on Earth, the Carol triplets will be celebrating Christmas
on their own. Oh, I know it’s perfectly normal for most adult siblings
to spend the occasional holiday alone.
Not us. Christmas is our thing. It’s always been our thing.
I mean, our mom was so obsessed with everything Christmas,
she named her miracle triplets Ivy, Holly, and Merry.
Now they’re leaving me. Not that I can blame them for wanting
to be anywhere but here this Christmas. It’s our first one without
Mom. We lost her suddenly six months ago, and… It’s been hard.
 Still, I thought we were moving on with our lives. I thought we
were getting to a place where we could be okay just the three of us.
I guess… I was wrong.
So wrong, I assumed we’d all be in a good enough place to
celebrate our mom’s favorite holiday together. Just like old times.
A fresh, raw wave of grief fills my chest, and my bottom lip
quivers. I catch it with my teeth and take a deep breath in through
my nose.
It’s going to be okay. At least I have my job. And at least I have
our office Christmas party. We hold it every Christmas Eve. I know
spending Christmas Eve with your co-workers sounds lame at best
and pathetic at worst. But it’s actually a lot of fun. And since I took
over planning duties a few years ago, the annual Christmas Eve
parties have kind of become ragers.
I have reasons to suspect this particular party to be especially
exciting.
Ike Noble, the owner of Noble Outwear, who is my boss and
mentor, is retiring in the new year. He hasn’t officially announced
who will be his successor, but he’s given plenty of hints that I’ll be
very happy with what he’s decided. He’s dropped just as many hints
that he’ll make a big announcement at the party.
I’m no mind reader, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to make the
connection. Why else would he have been grooming me to take his
job for the past couple of years if he didn’t plan to choose me?
The thought of seeing “HOLLY CAROL, CEO” on the door to the
big corner office immediately erases my melancholy.
Yes, Christmas is going to look very different this year. But with
so much to look forward to in the future, that doesn’t mean it has to
be blue. I just have to get through this month, and I’ll have so much
to look forward to in the new year.
 With that, I turn on my heels and make my way back to the
Noble Outwear office. As I walk, I mentally redecorate my new
office. It has floor to ceiling windows and a view of the mountains.
Maybe I could pick furniture in muted bluish gray tones so it’ll match
the mountains when they’re at their snow-capped and most
beautiful.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I nearly run into an older
woman ringing a bell outside of the building.
“Oh.” I stop myself just short of taking her—and the red bucket
she’s holding—out. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, sweetie.” She flashes me a bright smile that seems
to light up her whole face, and her blue eyes sparkle. For a second, I
feel like I’ve met her before. “You must be in a hurry to get where
you’re going.”
“Yeah, well.” I catch myself staring at her for a few moments
longer than I should. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something so
familiar about her. She… almost looks like Rose Nylund from The
Golden Girls.
That must be where I’m getting that feeling of déjà vu.
“It’s still no excuse to run into people.” I glance at the sign next
to her bucket. “You’re raising money for the local shelter?”
“That’s right. It’s so wonderful to be able to pass on blessings,
especially this time of year.”
“It is.” I instinctively dig into my purse and pull out the few dollar
bills I have. I wish I had more cash on me. “Here, this is all I have.
But will you be around for a while? I’d like to give more.”
“Don’t worry.” Those sparkling eyes of hers flicker a little. “You’ll
see me again.”
I give her a little nod, that strange feeling still brewing inside of
me. Shaking it off, I climb into the elevator.
 When I reach my floor, my Spidey senses tingle once again. Only
this time, it’s on account of the atmosphere of the office. Something
is happening. Something big. There’s a light murmur of hushed
whispers and the air practically sizzles with energy.
I pause at my assistant’s desk right outside of my office.
Linda, my trusty assistant, is listening closely to Diane, who
works in HR. “Rumor has it Ike wants to hand him the reins of the
company.”
My back straightens, and I’m not quite fast enough to keep the
frown from forming on my lips.
“No, that can’t be,” Linda shakes her head. “His son hasn’t been
around in years, and Mr. Noble says he’s retiring in the new year.
There’s no way he can possibly catch him up on everything.”
“It’s called nepotism, honey. It doesn’t usually make sense.”
Diane rolls her eyes and sighs. “It’s a good thing Baby Noble is
good-looking. Because he’s going to be a pain in our ass.”
“Ugh, tell me about it.” Linda’s face scrunches up and she
pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear, I’m getting a migraine
already just thinking about it. He’ll have so many questions.”
“Stupid questions. And we’ll have to grin and bear every single
one of them.”
“Without letting him know we really want to staple Post-Its to his
forehead.”
“No.” Diane shakes her head. “He’s way too pretty to staple
anything to that forehead of his. No matter how much we might
want to flick his nose.”
“I wouldn’t call him pretty.” Linda strokes her chin. “More
rugged.”
“Tall and handsome. Manly.”
“Like the Brawny guy.”
 They trail off when they see me standing near them. Linda
covers the keyboard with her fingers and Diane straightens.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Carol.” Linda’s smile is just a little too
bright. “Did you finally get a hold of your sister?”
“I did.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her to call me
Holly, but my mind is now otherwise engaged. I shift my weight
from one foot to the other, trying not to let the tension inside of me
grow even more. “Any messages while I was out?”
“Mr. Noble would like you to stop by his office as soon as you
can.”
I give a short nod as I pass her my coat and purse before
heading across the floor to his corner office. There’s no way what
Linda and Diane have said is true. If Mr. Noble was planning on
leaving the company to his son next month, he would have brought
him back into the fold much sooner.
His son is probably here for other reasons. Like, to spend the
holidays. He’s never done that before in the years I’ve worked here,
but maybe this is the exception.
I don’t have to worry about losing out on my promotion. Spine
straight and shoulders back, I knock on Mr. Noble's door and push it
open, ready to see the real-life Brawny man who most definitely isn’t
here to poach my job.
 TWO

JONAS

When my dad’s number two walks into the office, it’s like a punch to
the gut. In more ways than one.
Dad and I were heavily embroiled in another one of our pissing
matches. It’s not unexpected given our relationship through the
years, particularly in the last few. Let’s just say, there’s a reason I
turned down his job offer when I graduated college more than a
decade ago. And there are lots of reasons why I’ve seldom been
back to Denver since.
I was doing my best not to listen too closely to what he was
saying. I wasn’t paying attention when the door to his office swung
open. And the handle hit me squarely in the junk.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, folding over as the sharp pain
flows through every inch of my body.
“Watch your mouth,” Dad responds, with a narrow-eyed glare
that I’m only just able to see through blurry eyes. “There’s a lady
present. Speaking of, Jonas, this is Holly.”
Still fighting to win the battle over hurling, I clench my jaw and
straighten as best as I can. It’s time to face the woman my dad has
been talking up for several years, usually with a few digs directed at
me.
I begin the slow gaze up from her feet. Past a pair of shapely
legs and hips on display thanks to a form-fitting pair of jeans. Past
an equally full chest accentuated by a bright red sweater. Finally
landing on her face.
That’s when the second gut-punch strikes.
Holly Carol, quite simply, is one of the most striking women I’ve
ever seen. Striking. That’s not a word I’ve used before outside of
talking baseball with my buddies at a sports bar. But the word fits.
She’s striking. And stunning. And currently scowling at me even
though there’s a smile firmly planted on her lips.
Her fuck-me red lips.
Narrowly avoiding a wince, I straighten to my full height and
offer her a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Thank God. My words only came out a little pinched.
A spark flickers in her green eyes as she shakes my hand,
sending a jolt of warmth straight to my gut. “Finally?”
“My dad has been telling me so much about you.”
He didn’t mention she was gorgeous. Then again, if he had, I’d
probably have to kick the old man’s ass. It’s bad enough he’s
decided to propose to his long-time secretary. If he was sniffing
around his Senior Vice President of Business Development too…
“Has he?” Holly tugs her hand from mine.
I slide my thumb across my fingers. They’re still tingling from her
touch. “He said you’ve single-handedly kept Noble Outwear relevant
these past few years.”
“I wouldn’t say single-handedly did anything.” Her lips twitch,
and I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “We have a great team
here.”
 “A team you’ve been instrumental in building.” Dad rounds his
desk to rest a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “It’s been nice having a
second in command I can count on. Especially since you went out on
your own.”
Leaving his whole plan of succession in flux.
My jaw ticks. Of course, Dad would choose to continue our
disagreement in front of an audience. And, of course, he’d make me
out to be the villain in our situation.
I wonder how much he’s told his protege about what happened
between us. I wonder why I care.
“I haven’t heard much about you,” Holly says.
“There’s not a lot to say.”
Dad snorts. “I guess I shouldn’t take it personally that I don’t
know much about what you’re up to these days. Besides dodging
calls from your dad.”
I breathe in deeply through my nose. I’m not going to let him
drag me into a fight. Not in front of her.
“I’ve been busy with work,” I say. “There’s not much more to say
than that.”
Dad looks like he might have something to say about that—like
how I should have been busy helping him run the company with our
family name in it.
But Holly, either sensing the escalation of private family drama or
eager to move this conversation along, speaks first. “So, are you in
town for the holidays?”
I share another icy look with Dad. “You could say that.”
Somehow, I get the impression she isn’t crazy about that answer.
There’s no other explanation for why her nostrils are flaring.
“Holly always spends the holidays with her family,” Dad says with
more implication in his words. “She’s one of a set of triplets.”
 I arch an eyebrow. “You mean there are three of you?”
She gives me an overly bright, and definitely fake, tight smile.
“That’s how triplets usually work.”
My lips twitch. “Identical?”
“Mostly.”
God have mercy. That means there are three breathtakingly
stunning women walking the face of the Earth. Each of them sent to
tempt mere mortals like me. Then again, given the way she’s been
scowling at me through a smile for the past several minutes—and
the handful of well-placed barbs—maybe they weren’t sent from
heaven.
That possibility makes me grin. And grimace as my still-sore cock
twitches.
“So you must have big plans for the holidays I say.” I cringe
inwardly. I suck at small talk.
“Actually my sisters will be gone this year.” She gives a tight-
lipped smile. “It’ll just be me.”
Now I feel like even more of a dick. “Sorry.”
She lifts a shoulder and turns to my dad. “Was there something I
can help you with, Mr. Noble?”
“Actually, I was hoping you might let my boy here shadow you
the next couple of days. Show him around. Introduce him to people.”
He gives me a stern look that still has the power to make me feel
thirteen years old instead of thirty-three. “Don’t be afraid to put him
to work with the holiday party.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” She tightens her hold on the phone
gripped in her hands. “Everything is pretty much ready to go.”
“We both know you’re going to stay late the night before the
party to decorate and transform this place into Santa’s workshop.
You always do.” Dad chuckles. “Have Jonas help you with some of
the heavy lifting. Send him on errands.”
“Well...”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You can put me to work. I’m glad to help.”
Glad might be a stretch, but I wouldn’t say no to spending a little
more time with this woman. Something about her… She’s striking in
every sense of the word.
“Alright, I appreciate your help.” She glances at the door. “Was
there anything else I can help you with?”
“That’ll be all Holly,” Dad says.
“I’ll see you around.”
She gives a short nod in response to me and leaves, pulling the
door closed behind her.
“Her mom passed away earlier this year,” Dad says. “It was
unexpected.”
“Oh.” I stare at the closed door, feeling like shit about bringing up
the fact that she’ll be alone this Christmas. “It’s hard to lose a
parent.”
An experience I, unfortunately, know too well.
“Is her dad—”
“He’s not in the picture. She’s a good girl, though, and won’t
complain.” Dad gives me a hard look. “She knows how important it is
to appreciate the family you have.”
I sigh and rub my forehead. “Dad, it was never about—”
“I know, I know.” He holds up his hands. “You needed space to
be your own man.” He shoves his hands in his pocket. “I really hope
you’ll take what I’ve said under consideration. There’s been a Noble
running the company since your great-grandfather founded it.”
Though we hadn’t been in the outerwear business then.
 “I will think about it.” There’s one thing giving me real pause
right now. It’s not the years I’ve been away. I’ve spent that time
getting an MBA and salvaging three companies that were about to
go under with my accounting skills. “What about Holly?”
“What do you mean?”
“As your second in command these past few years, don’t you
think she’ll be expecting the job?”
“I’ve never promised her anything. She’ll understand it’s a family
matter.”
I’m not so sure he’s right about that. Not if the fire she showed
in her eyes earlier was any indication.
“Listen.” Dad clears his throat. “Joyce is hoping you’ll come over
for dinner on Christmas.”
Joyce. My dad’s personal secretary. His very personal secretary.
The woman he started dating mere months after my mom passed
away. The woman he plans to marry after his retirement.
I suppose it’s time I got used to it—to them.
“Yeah,” I say at last. “I’ll be there.”
 THREE

HOLLY

“It’s the most wonderful time, of the—”

I flip off the car radio before Andy Williams belts out the virtues
of the Christmas season. From the passenger seat, Mere gives me a
curious look.
“What?” I ask, pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose.
“You skipped the song.”
I shrug off the comment. “I’m not in the mood.”
Given the way my life has turned upside down during the past
twenty-four hours, I’d say I’m well within my rights to not be in the
mood for all things Christmas.
She scoffs. “You? Not in the mood for Christmas music?”
“Is that so weird? They’ve been playing the damn stuff non-stop
since Halloween.”
“And normally you love it.”
She’s right. Most years, I’m one of those over-the-top Christmas
people. We all are. We’re the kind who put our Christmas trees up
before Thanksgiving. We have closets overflowing with ugly festive
sweaters. I’ve even perfected a recipe for eggnog pancakes.
 But now… Nope. I’m done with Christmas this year. Just as soon
as I make sure the Noble Outerwear Christmas Eve party is the best
one ever.
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“If nothing was wrong, you wouldn’t have said that through
gritted teeth.”
“I said nothing was wrong, which means nothing is wrong.”
Mere arches an eyebrow that says more than words could.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
That’s the problem with being a triplet. You almost never get
anything past your sisters. You’re too in-tuned with each other’s
mannerisms and thoughts to miss anything.
I frown at Mere. “I didn’t think you liked Shakespeare.”
“Shakespeare? What does he have to do with anything?”
I snort. “Who do you think said that?”
“I’m pretty sure I heard someone say it on an episode of Gilmore
Girls.”
“Wow.” I roll my eyes. “You’re so cultured.”
“I know, right.”
I open my mouth to say something else but clamp it shut. Even
though she isn’t here with us, I can practically hear Ivy scolding us
for bickering.
But Ivy isn’t here. That makes me the senior-ranking Carol sister.
As the senior ranking Carol sister, it’s my responsibility to put a stop
to the bickering.
I sigh but say nothing, wiggling the fingers I have gripped
around the steering wheel.
Giving a satisfied smirk, Mere leans back in her seat. “Look, I
know you’re upset about Ivy and I being gone for Christmas.”
 “That’s not it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I’m tempted to tell Mere everything that’s going on, but I can’t
quite bring myself to do it. I know she already feels bad enough
about leaving me only a few days before Christmas. Especially with
Ivy gone on her mystery trip. There’s no way I’m going to make her
feel even worse by telling her that the promotion I’ve been working
so hard to get is going to be handed to my boss’s son.
My boss’s son who, despite being a big blip in my plans for the
future, is way too easy on the eyes. I shift uncomfortably in my car
seat remembering the way his dark brown eyes had the power to
make every inch of my body heat up under his stare.
Which… is great. Exactly what I need at the moment. Merry
freaking Christmas to me.
“It’s just something with the work party,” I make up.
Mere nods in understanding. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I’m
sure you’ll make it work. You’re too stubborn to let it be anything but
perfection.”
“Gee, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, enough about that. Do
you have your bridesmaid’s dress?”
“Yep.”
“And a change of underwear?”
She opens her mouth, but quickly clamps it shut. Her brow knits
together, and I grit my teeth even tighter. How could someone not
remember whether or not they packed underwear before jetting off
halfway across the country?
Instantly, my foul mood vanishes, and I have to bite back a
laugh.
“I’m sure I packed some,” she says a little too defensively.
 “Let’s hope so.” I pull up in front of the departures terminal and
put the car in park. “Because you have a flight to catch. If you need
anything—”
“I know.” She covers one of my hands on the steering wheel. “I’ll
call. You can do the same for me.”
I release the steering wheel and throw an arm around Mere.
“Have a good trip.”
“I will.” She squeezes me back. “Now, try to have a little fun
while I’m gone.”
That’s not likely, but I keep the thought to myself. “I hope you
find your underwear.”

Unfortunately, my premonition of what awaits me once I get to

Noble Outerwear is proven true. As per Mr. Noble’s request, his son
spends the day trailing me while I introduce him to people and
explain what everyone is working on.
Never sparing anyone so much as a smile, he asks short, nosey
questions that would piss me off if they weren’t so astute.
Even though he’s stealing my promotion out from under me, I try
to make small talk with him. It doesn’t work. Instead, he keeps
staring at me intently. It’s almost as if he’s picking me apart to find
all of my flaws so he can use them against me to secure the
promotion.
He even turned down my offer to bring him a peppermint mocha
back from the coffee shop. I mean, seriously? What kind of person
frowns when you offer him a cup of deliciousness?
It appears someone else is lacking in Christmas spirit this year,
too.
 By the time I get home that evening, I have a splitting headache
and a desperate need for some spiked eggnog. I may be over
Christmas this year, but it would be a waste to let the cartons I’ve
already bought go bad.
This is the same mindset I have when I stay up half the night
stress-baking copious amounts of sugar cookies. They’re my mom’s
recipe and baking them makes me feel closer to her. At the same
time, it makes me miss her and my sisters all the more. So it’s a
double-edged sword.
By 2 a.m., I’ve baked and decorated several dozen, going so far
as to plate them for sharing at the office, I feel more in control of
my emotions. I’m still anxious about what the future holds for me
once I get to the office. But at least I’m armed with a bunch of
cookies.
A bunch of cookies I’m precariously balancing in my arms as I
walk from the parking garage to the office building later that
morning.
“Is it January yet?” I mumble when I catch myself before tripping
and spilling my delicious cargo.
“Careful there.” A pair of strong hands grip me by the elbows.
My spine stiffens and I slowly turn around and come face to face
with none other than Jonas Noble. My knees buckle slightly.
“Whoa.” He tightens his grip, his dark eyes narrowing. “Are you
okay?”
“I’m fine. I must have found a slick spot.”
He glances around to look for the spot, and my cheeks flush
anticipating the moment he catches me in a lie. But, he proves to be
more of a gentleman than I would guess.
“Yeah, it gets pretty slick this time of year.” He releases my
elbows. “Will you be okay getting all of those inside?”
 “I’ve got them.”
“Are you sure?” Before I can protest, his lips curve into a half-
grin that so surprises me, I go silent. “My dad did instruct you to put
me to work.”
I give a short laugh. “Well, I suppose you could carry some of
them.”
“With pleasure.” He takes the bulk of the boxed up cookies. He
draws close enough that I catch a whiff of his masculine scent. It’s
like a spicy mixture of orange and sandalwood.
He starts to step away and pauses. “Are you coming in?”
“I just need a minute.”
He studies me closely for a minute before heading back for the
building. Releasing a breath, I wait until he’s inside before I follow.
Outside the door, the woman who was ringing the bell the other
day is back, armed with her overly cheerful smile.
“Why, hello there again, Holly.” Her face crumbles slightly in
concern. “You look like you’re a little down in the dumps. Is
everything okay?”
I open my mouth and pause. “How do you know my name?”
“We met the other day. Don’t you remember?”
”I remember.” We must have exchanged names. And, darn it all,
I can’t remember her name. I don’t want to be rude and admit it.
“Sorry. Mental lapse.”
“Oh, I’m familiar with those. When you get to be my age, you
have a lot of them. So, tell me. What’s going on?”
I want to protest, but something about this woman makes me
want to confess everything to her.
I sigh. “This Christmas is turning out to be even harder than I
thought it would be. My sisters are both on opposite sides of the
country, leaving me alone for the holidays for the first time in my
life.”
She nods sympathetically. “It’s hard to be alone this time of
year.”
“It was always going to be tough. Our mom passed away earlier
this year. She… she loved Christmas. She made it so special.”
I blab on about all of the little and big things she used to do to
make the holidays extra cheerful for us. “I keep thinking about all of
those holidays in the past and wishing I could experience it one
more time.”
I sigh again. “I thought I could distract myself with my job. I
thought I was a shoo-in for a huge promotion. But now someone
else is here, and they’re probably going to get it. I don’t know. My
head feels like it’s spinning all the time with all of these thoughts of
the past and worries for the future. I can hardly keep them all
straight.”
“Hmm.” The bell ringer nods thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind my
saying, Holly, it sounds like you’re so caught up in the memories of
your past and your plans for the future. Have you ever tried being
more present?”
“Be present?”
“Absolutely. Forget the past. Forget the future. Just… take every
moment as it comes and say yes to every opportunity to add some
joy to your life.”
She smiles at me, and somehow the tension inside of me seems
to go away. “It’s Christmas, after all. A time for joy. And a time for
presents.”
 FOUR

JONAS

Going to the Christmas tree lot with Holly was a mistake.

After spending half the night tossing and turning as I had lewd
dream after lewd dream about her, being so close to her all day had
been hell.
Then I’d accompanied her to the lot, per my father’s request, to
help her get a tree for the party. That shouldn’t have been too bad.
Except that Holly, apparently determined to drive me crazy, kept
bending over to look at each trunk before she found one that would
do the trick.
Every time she bent over, visions of stepping up behind her and
seeing if the tree was sturdy enough to hold our weight while I
drove us both to satisfaction filled my head.
At least it’s fucking cold outside. That, and the long walk back to
the offices, does a little to help cool my lust.
Outside the building, Holly freezes suddenly. “Okay, stop.”
Unprepared for the sudden halt in motion, I run into the stump
of the tree with an “oof.” “A little warning would be nice.”
“I said stop.”
 “After you already stopped.”
She waves off my response as if that one crucial fact makes no
difference. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What subject?”
“This.” She gestures emphatically at me as if that explains
everything.
“What does”—I wave my hands back at her—“this mean?”
“Why are you being so mean to me?”
I frown. “Mean? I just helped you drag a Christmas tree almost a
mile across downtown Denver.”
“And you glared at me the entire time. Just like you did
yesterday.”
Her eyes are bright and sparkling. It’s all I can do not to stare at
them. Especially after she’s just accused me of glaring—when I only
thought I was staring—all day.
“I’m not glaring.” When she rolls her eyes, I take a step toward
her and nearly bump into the stump again, but catch myself.
Stepping around it, I move toward her. “I promise. I wasn’t glaring.”
“Then—then why won’t you talk to me?”
“I talk to you.”
“Barely. You hardly answer my questions.” She raises her chin as
if she’s drawing upon some courage. It seems to me, she has plenty
of it. It’s one of the things I like about her.
There are a lot of things to like about her.
“It… seems like you hate me.”
“No.” I shake my head and take another step toward her. “I don’t
hate you.”
“Then—”
“You… you make me nervous,” I admit.
Her eyes grow wide. “I make you nervous?”
 “You do.” I run a hand over the cropped whiskers on my jaw.
“Look, you’re gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous?”
I dart a glance at her, silently asking if she’s seriously questioning
that fact. She has to know she’s stunning. “You’re so good at taking
command of every situation.”
“I take command?”
“You’re a force to be reckoned with, Holly. A smart, brilliant,
beautiful force. And I can’t seem to keep myself from staring,
because I’m trying to figure you out.”
There. I said it. With plenty of words strung together to form
sentences that she shouldn’t be able to accuse me of not speaking
to her again.
“You want to figure me out?”
I can’t help but smirk at the way she’s been parroting me. “I
apologize if it’s made you uncomfortable.”
“Well… apology accepted.” She picks up her end of the tree. “We
should probably get this inside before it’s dark.”
With a nod, I return to the other side and hoist up the tree by
the trunk. “Lead the way.”
We manage to get the tree up to the office with only a brief
harrowing moment in the elevator, in which I shouted “PIVOT!”
about half a dozen times. Fortunately, Holly seemed to find that
hilarious.
Once we’re in the now-empty Noble Outerwear offices, Holly
leaves me briefly to drop her coat and purse off in her office and
retrieve the lights and decorations she needs.
When she returns, I have my sleeves rolled up and I give the
tree a light shake. “Where do you want it, boss?”
 She blinks a few times before frowning. “Don’t shake the tree.
You’ll get needles everywhere.”
“No, I won’t.”
She stalks toward me and pulls the tree aside and points to the
ground. “See.”
Sure enough, there’s a small pool of pine needles.
I lift a shoulder. “I’ll clean it up later.”
“You better.” But her words don’t have any heat.
For a while, we wordlessly work together while we get the stump
in the stand.
“Wait,” I say before she goes to get a razor so we can cut the
twine and release the branches. “Let me get a picture of you.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You want a picture of me?”
“With the tree. I’ll send it to my dad. So he can see I’m being
helpful.”
“Shouldn’t you be in it too?”
I lift a shoulder. “Sure.”
I stand next to her, posing with the tree between us. I extend my
arm and shake my head. “We need to get closer.”
Both of us lean toward each other. The hairs on the back of my
neck stand up at her nearness. I snap the photo and pull the phone
back for us to look at.
Now Holly shakes her head. “Nope.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You aren’t smiling.”
I roll my eyes but extend my arm again. This time, I plaster the
biggest, cheesiest grin on my face, crossing both of my eyes as I do.
Click.
I show her the photo on the screen. “Better?”
“Much.” She smirks. “Come on. We need to get scissors.”
 “My dad keeps some in his office,” which is the closest one to us
at the moment.
Though it’s not a task that takes two people, we both stride to
his office. Not that I mind. It gives me another chance to admire the
gentle sway of Holly’s hips as she walks in front of me.
“I think your dad keeps a box of utility knives on the shelf behind
the door.”
Nodding, I close the door so I can reach them. I look through a
few boxes before I find it. “Will this one work?”
“I grabbed some scissors too, just in case.”
“Then it seems like we should be covered in cutting the twine.”
“Seems like it.” She grins at me, and I miss a breath.
Holly reaches for the handle. And it—the damn handle that nearly
turned me into a soprano the other day—falls off the door in her
hand. Her eyes widen and she meets my gaping stare.
“Well, shit,” she says with a short laugh.
Panic lances my heart and I cross the short distance to her and
take the knob. She stands back and watches, humor playing on
those tempting lips of hers, while I try—and fail—several times to
get the handle to stick back on it.
“So that won’t work.” I pass the handle back to her. I turn back
toward my dad’s desk and grab a ruler. “Let’s try this.”
She arches an eyebrow. “A ruler?”
I stick it into the small hole, trying to see if I can trigger the
handle on the other side. But the ruler is too wide. I try the pair of
scissors next. Then my finger.
None of them work.
“So much for that idea.” Running my hands through my hair, I
pace back and forth to my dad’s office. “We have to get out of here.”
 There’s no way I can stay stuck in here with this woman for God-
knows-how-long until we’re discovered. Not when every time I look
at her my libido lights up like the damn Christmas tree we just
hauled up the elevator.
“We should call someone.” I pause mid-stride. “Do you have the
number for the security desk on your phone?”
“I do, but…” She shakes her head. “I don’t have my phone. It’s in
my purse. Which is in my office. What about your phone?”
I pat my pockets and wince. “I left it next to the tree.”
I stalk across the room to my dad’s desk. I pick up the phone
and there’s no dial tone. “How do I dial out?”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean I can’t?”
I turn, and she’s pulling a face. “The phones—and the Internet—
are all down tonight for routine maintenance.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
I suck in a breath. Great. Just great. I’m stuck in my dad’s office
with a beautiful woman who apparently finds me frustrating.
Could this Christmas get any better?
 FIVE

HOLLY

“Okay.” I take a deep breath, taking command of the emotions

churning inside of me so I can get a better grip on the situation. “We
have to be calm.”
“Calm?” Jonas snorts. “That’s your grand plan for how we’re
going to deal with this?”
“I’d say it’s a better start than freaking out and going into a rage.
But then again, maybe that’s how you do things back in Seattle.”
“It’s not how we…” Heaving a sigh, Jonas rubs his forehead.
“You’re right. We need to be calm.”
I give him a stern look. “Do we need to do some breathing
exercises?”
“I can control myself.”
“Good.” I glance around the office forming a plan.
If we were going to get stuck anywhere in the Noble Outerwear
offices, at least we ended up in Mr. Noble’s executive suite. There’s a
mini fridge in the corner, which I know his secretary/future wife
keeps stocked with bottles of water. There’s also a private restroom,
so we don’t have to worry about designating a pee corner if we end
up here overnight. Oof. That would be one way to take a bad
situation and make it a real nightmare.
“Okay,” I say resolutely. “First things first, we need to find a way
to let people know we’re stuck in here.”
“Without working phones?” He scratches the back of his head in
agitation. “How do we do that?”
“We make a sign.” I race to the filing cabinet where I know we
store reams of paper. “We write one letter to a piece of paper, filling
in the letters so they’re thick and can be seen, and we hang them in
the window.”
“How are people going to see it? We’re on the fourteenth floor.”
It’s a good point, but we don’t have any other choice. “Maybe
someone in the hotel across the street will see it.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck stomping our feet hoping someone
is still in the office below us and calls security.”
I glare at him. “It couldn’t hurt to try, could it?”
He sighs. “You should draw the letters. I’ll color them in. My
handwriting sucks.”
We each take a seat at Mr. Noble’s desk. Jonas insists I take his
dad’s chair. A seat I’ve imagined filling many times. Though,
realistically, even if I became CEO, I’m sure I’d get my own chair.
One with better lumbar support.
We work silently, amassing a small pile of letters.
I peek up at him through my eyelashes, grinning when I see he
has his lips pursed in concentration.
“So,” I say. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”
He glances up. “What?”
“If this doesn’t work, we’ll have a lot of time to kill. I figure we
should make some conversation.”
 He turns his attention back to his paper. “Muppet Christmas
Carol.”
“Oh, I love that one. Michael Caine is a treasure.”
“Yeah.” He fills in more of the block. “What about you?”
“There are so many good ones, let’s see.” I tilt my head to the
side. “There’s Miracle on 34th Street and It’s a Wonderful Life.”
“Both good classics.”
“But I guess my favorite is Elf. The one where Will Farrel—”
“I know Elf.” He gives a light grin. “It’s a good one.”
“Well, my mom knew it was one of my favorites so she always
put it in our movie rotation. And one year, to surprise me, she
decorated my bedroom the way Buddy decorated his family’s
apartment.”
“With lights and streamers and snowflakes.”
“Exactly. She…” I trail off, a huge wave of grief rushing over me. I
swallow hard. “She was always so good at making Christmas special
for us. It was the best time of year.”
“Moms are good at Christmas.” He meets my gaze. “But it sounds
like your mom was really good at it.”
“I… I sometimes wonder if it would have been better or worse if
we’d known last Christmas was going to be our last Christmas.” I
clear my throat to keep a lump from forming, though it desperately
wants to. “Would I have made more of a point to savor every
moment? Would I have appreciated it more?”
“Or would you have been too sad or so focused on memorizing
everything that you didn’t give yourself the freedom to be in the
moment to enjoy it?”
“Is that what happened to you?”
He nods, clenching his jaw twice. “It was… hard. I tried so hard
to make everything perfect for her. The way she used to always
make it so perfect for me. But the more I tried..."
He stares back down at the desk.
“Maybe it is for the best we didn’t know then.” My bottom lip
quivers and I catch it with my upper lip. I give myself a moment to
maintain my composure. “Our last Christmas was just like all the
others. Happy. Loud. More than a little over the top.”
He chuckles lightly at that. “It sounds like fun.”
“It was. Mom always made Christmas fun. I only wish…”
I have to stop myself again because the risk of tears is just too
strong.
Jonas clears his throat. “I understand.”
Suddenly I feel oddly naked. More than naked. If I was naked,
Jonas would only have removed the layers of my clothing. Stripping
me bare for his eyes to feast upon.
That’s a thought that makes my cheeks flush and need pools
between my thighs.
But that’s not the layer he’s pulled away. Somehow, he’s
managed to take off the cheerful and outgoing mask I wear like
armor. He’s found the root of the grief I’ve been carrying with me for
the past six months. He’s found the fears I have for the future.
He’s left me emotionally naked and vulnerable. He knows the
deepest secrets of my past and future. Truths only my sisters know.
The bell ringer’s words come to mind. You’re so caught up in the
memories of your past and your plans for the future. Have you ever
tried being more present?
That advice has never seemed more prudent than now. For
tonight, I’d like to forget everything that’s weighing me down. Surely
there’s something we can do to keep ourselves occupied in the
present.
 Throwing myself at him and shoving my tongue down his throat
while my hands explore every inch of his rock-hard body would be
one way to accomplish that task. I smirk to myself. Tempting as that
would be—and believe me, I’ve never been so tempted—I’m not
sure I can stop worrying about the future to take that step. It would
change our workplace dynamics.
They’re already changed, a voice whispers.
I shake it off and glance around Mr. Noble’s office looking for
something that can keep my thoughts focused on less serious things
while we’re stuck here.
“Anyway.” I take a deep breath in quickly and let it out. “What’s
your favorite Christmas candy?”
He groans, but by the time we finish making our signs and
hanging them up in the window, we’ve fallen into an easy enough
conversation, each of us learning more about the other.
We stand back to admire our work. I turn to look at Jonas. “I
suppose there’s only one thing left for us to do.”
He arches an eyebrow and the butterflies in my belly flutter.
“What’s that?”
I reach for the pile of printer paper and pluck the scissors out of
a mug on Mr. Noble’s desk. “We find out which one of us is the best
at making snowflakes.”
 SIX

JONAS

“How did I let you talk me into doing this?” I grumble as I

awkwardly pick up a pair of sewing scissors from a kit in my dad’s
desk.
I didn’t even know my dad knew how to sew, let alone had a
sewing kit. According to Holly, my future stepmother signed him up
for an introductory sewing class last summer. He wanted to be able
to mend the tears he frequently gets in his shirts.
Apparently, Dad was the star pupil in his class. Never mind that
the rest of the students were all six and seven.
“He’s really proud of the certificate they printed out for him,”
Holly had said with a light laugh that, for some reason, brought
jingle bells to mind. “Joyce has it hanging up on their fridge. Along
with the mosaic magnets they made during a class they took last
spring.”
That’s a new title for Ike Noble: Crafter. Guess I can add that to
the list of things I didn’t know about my old man. Then again,
sending each other an “Are you still alive?” text every couple of
months doesn’t open itself up for many heartfelt conversations about
what you and the other person are doing with your lives.
I sigh, and Holly rolls those dazzling green eyes of hers. “Oh
don’t act like I’m forcing you to make snowflakes. You can stop any
time you want.”
“And give you the satisfaction of declaring yourself to be the
snowflake-making champion of Noble Outerwear.” I scoff good-
naturedly. “Think again, buddy.”
“Buddy?” She arches an eyebrow and my heart thuds.
“You’re right, we’re not exactly friends are we?”
Though I’m teasing her, what I said is true. While we may have
declared a truce and made ourselves friendlier to each other, that
hardly makes us buddies. I’m not sure I could ever really be friends
with her. Not when watching her purse those lips of hers makes me
want to put them to another use.
I groan inwardly and try to shake the thoughts of those lips
wrapped around me out of my head. But it’s too late. My cock is
already almost painfully hard and throbbing.
Giving another sigh, heavier this time, I try to shift the subject—
and my dirty thoughts—back to something safer.
“If we’re going to make paper snowflakes, I think it’s only fair
that we trade off the big scissors and the little scissors for every
other snowflake.” I shake my already cramping hand. “Otherwise, I
may do permanent nerve damage to my fingers.”
“It sounds to me like you’re making excuses for why I’m going to
come out the snowflake-making champion.” Her tempting lips twitch.
“But in the interest of fairness, I’ll consider your request.”
“Consider my request?”
“Yes.” She raises her chin. “After all, no one said life is fair. Plus,
finders keepers, and all that.”
 I can’t resist grinning. “Is that more lessons learned from life as a
triplet?”
“One of many.” The sparkle in her eyes dims a little.
I can feel my own spirits sink along with her humor. Damn, I can
be such a thoughtless ass sometimes. She’s already admitted how
hard this Christmas is with her sisters out of town and their mom
gone. And here I am, poking at her pain. Unintentionally. But I
should still be more thoughtful.
She makes a little sound that’s part sigh, part something I can’t
quite put my finger on. “It’s more a lesson of being the middle
child.”
“Does birth order make a lot of difference as a triplet?”
“It makes all the difference, my friend.” She gives me a teasing
look that slices through the brief tension that settled over us. “Even
now, it’s how we decide everything from who gets to ride shotgun to
who gets to open the first and last present on Christmas morning.”
“And where does that leave you as the one in the middle?”
“Usually cracking jokes or doing something silly. Like tying my
little sister to a chair with Christmas ribbons or sneaking into my big
sister’s room while she’s asleep to hide the outfit she laid out the
night before.”
“It sounds like you were a bit of a wild child.”
“Child? This happened last year.” She laughs a little. “Kidding.”
She wrinkles her nose. “My teachers said I acted out because I
wasn’t getting enough attention. But that wasn’t it. Mom was really
good about giving us all one-on-one time. She never let any of us
feel left out or like we weren’t getting enough time.”
“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She was the best.” She offers me a sad smile. She looks like she
wants to ask me something, but doesn’t.
 “What? You can ask me anything.”
“It’s pretty personal.”
“I think given our current situation, we’re past the point of
worrying about something being too personal.”
“Okay, well, if you change your mind and decide—”
“Just ask the question, Holly.”
She clenches her teeth before blurting out, “What happened with
you and your dad?”
I flinch, but joke. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Sorry, was that too rude?”
“No, you’re good. It’s just… complicated. It might take a while.”
“Well, we have nothing but time.”
“True.” I rub my forehead. “Okay, the short version: I was a mess
after my mom died. She’d been sick for a while, so we knew it was
coming. But I don’t think you can ever be completely prepared for
something like that.”
She nods, and I know she—of all people—understands the pain
of losing a mom.
“I was in my early twenties. My mom was gone. And… I felt like
my dad wasn’t as upset as I was.” I stare down at the paper in my
hands. “What I didn’t realize then is that my dad and mom had done
a lot of their grieving together. Before she was gone. When I found
out he was seeing Joyce after mom was only gone a few months…”
Holly places a hand on my forearm. Her silent show of support
gives me the strength to continue.
“We exchanged some words. He told me I needed to grow up. I
told him he needed to keep it in his pants.” I tighten my grip on the
paper and it crinkles slightly. “It ended with me saying I needed
some space. He could do what he wanted with his company. We’ve
barely been able to have a civil conversation since.”
 She stares at me intently with those brilliant green eyes of hers.
My palms grow sweaty, and I have to tighten my grip on the scissors
to keep from letting the slip out of my grasp.
“I know this probably isn’t going to be a popular suggestion…”
She lifts her shoulders apologetically. “But maybe you should sit
down with your dad and have a serious conversation. Let him know
how you feel.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? We Noble men aren’t the best
at talking about mundane things. Like football or baseball. Talking
about feelings…” I shake my head and turn back to cutting chunks
out of the folded paper in my hand. “We’d be in trouble before we
started.”
“Maybe that’s the way it would have been in the past. But you
can’t worry about the past. Or the future.”
“Is that some new-Agey ‘be present and mindful’ B.S. you picked
up in a yoga class?” I scoff and take a few angry cuts at my
snowflake. “Because that might work while you’re trying to get into
downward dog, but it doesn’t have the same effect on two stubborn
sons of bitches who haven’t seen eye to eye… ever.”
“Well, at least you’re self-aware.”
I glance up at her. “Come again?”
“You admit that you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.” She smiles
sweetly. “You’re already halfway to achieving that present mindful
bullshit.”
A pit settles in my stomach, along with a heavy dose of guilt and
shame. “I’m also an ass.”
“See. I told you. Self-aware.” Holly smirks to herself, and I once
again find myself struggling to breathe.
What hold does this woman have on me? Forty-eight hours ago,
she was little more than a name to me. A name my dad liked to
throw out during our rare conversations as a way to make me feel
like shit.
Now, she’s more than a name. She’s Holly, the woman who has
somehow found a way to crawl under my skin. The woman who has
taken such a hold of me, I can’t think straight.
I clocked her as striking from the start. That hasn’t changed, but
she’s even more than that. Sitting with her shapely legs curled
underneath her, she’s cutting away at her snowflake with as much
enthusiasm as she seems to approach everything. Her tongue is
sticking out of the corner of her mouth in focus. I wonder if she
even realizes she’s doing it.
I wonder what her lips and tongue taste like. I bet she tastes like
the sugar cookies she baked and the rum we stole from Dad’s desk.
Sugar cookies and rum. And Holly.
My cock twitches and I tear my gaze from her in a half-hearted
attempt to cool my libido. Short of me hopping into a cold shower or
a pile of snow stark naked, there’s not much hope of that.
“How did you get to be so wise in the ways of interfamily serious
conversations?” I ask, faking interest in my snowflake. “More triplet
stuff?”
She grins. “Let’s just say I’ve had some good advice of my own
lately from a friend.”
“And what kind of advice did you get?”
“She told me… to stop worrying so much about the past or
future. To focus on the present.”
“That’s pretty good advice. Though tough to follow.”
“That’s what I thought. I—” She flinches and gasps, dropping her
scissors and the paper.
“What’s wrong?” I drop my own supplies and reach her without
waiting for an answer. I see the faint red line of a paper cut on her
finger and wince. “Ouch. Those things hurt.”
“So bad.”
“Hold on.” I leave her sitting on the floor and grab a tissue from
Dad’s desk. When I return, I lower myself next to her on the ground,
even closer than before. I carefully grasp her hand in mine again
and wrap her finger.
Neither of us says anything for long moments. At her nearness, I
can feel my heart thundering in my chest, matching her own pulse,
which is beating quickly against my thumb.
“I think the bleeding has stopped,” she says at last.
I pull the tissue back and see she’s right. On impulse, and
remembering her words about living in the future, I lower my head
to press a kiss to her finger.
She sucks in a breath and watches me closely. She doesn’t pull
back and raising my gaze I see it. The flicker of fire in her eyes.
It’s all the invitation I need. I pull her into my arms and capture
her lips in a searing kiss. The last thought I have before I sink into it
is that I was right.
She tastes like rum and sugar cookies.
 SEVEN

HOLLY

Wrapped in Jonas’s strong embrace, I let the kiss consume me,

allowing myself to sink into it completely.
I don’t worry about the past.
I don’t think about what this could mean for the future.
For the first time, I think I understand what my bell-ringing
friend meant when she said I should focus more on the present.
Right now, I’m a big fan of living in the present.
I slide my hands up his chest, stroking the muscles under his
flannel shirt. I reach for the buttons, eager to touch his bare skin.
Jonas releases his hold on me to grab my hands. He breaks off the
kiss and looks down at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
“Because this could make certain things complicated.” He stares
intently at me, passion thick in his dark eyes. “And I don’t want—”
“Would you mind if we don’t worry about what might happen
tomorrow or what happened yesterday? Could we just focus on
what’s happening right now?”
 His lips, swollen from mine, curve up. “I can do that.”
“Good. Then kiss me.”
“Yes, boss.” A little thrill runs up my spine at his words, and it’s
heightened by his mouth on mine again.
This kiss is every bit as searing as the first, only there’s more to
it. It’s every bit as urgent, but it’s more insistent. It’s as if he’s
silently urging me to feel every bit of joy and desire I can at this
moment.
And it’s not hard to do.
I return to removing his shirt, splaying my hands over his bare
skin once it’s revealed.
I suck in a breath. “God, you’re so strong.”
“It’s from carrying that Christmas tree.” He grazes his teeth along
my jaw and I gasp, clinging to him as a fresh wave of pleasure fills
me.
“I should have you carry more trees then.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He pulls me to the ground, cradling me in his arms as he nibbles
his way along the curve of my neck, lower and lower until he
reaches my shirt’s neckline.
“This sweater of yours has been driving me crazy all day.” He
reaches for the hem and inches it up bit by bit. “I’ve been wondering
what’s underneath it. I’ve wanted to unwrap you like a present.”
“I hope you like what you find.”
He pulls back so he can pull the sweater the rest of the way up
and tosses it aside. Fire flashes in his eyes and he hungrily explores
my body with his gaze.
“It’s even better than I imagined.” He leans forward and presses
his mouth on the edge of my lacy red bra. “Better than any present
I’ve ever found on the tree.”
 We move against each other. Letting our fingers and lips work
their magic. Stroking each other. Teasing. Though we’re both clearly
wild with desire, we take our time.
After all, it’s clear our sign in the windows didn’t draw any
attention. We have all night to worship each other.
When his fingers and lips find the sensitive spot between my
thighs, I swear, I have a religious experience. I move against him,
sliding my fingers into this thick dark hair.
“Come for me,” he murmurs against my clit before sucking it into
his mouth.
It’s enough to send me over the edge, the orgasm flowing
through my veins and filling every inch of me with pleasure. I’m
panting by the time it’s over, and still tingling from wanting more.
“I need you inside of me,” I say.
He presses his lips to mine. “Give me one second.”
He reaches into his long-since discarded jeans and pulls a
condom out of his wallet. I take it from him, ripping the foil open
and tossing it aside.
As he settles at my side again, I push him to his back. Hovering
over him, I lean forward to press a kiss to the tip of his hard length.
He sucks in a breath. Grinning, I slide the condom over him.
He takes my hands and helps me straddle his hips. Our stares
are locked on each other as he helps to lower me onto his cock,
slowly filling and stretching me.
“Oh my God.” My eyelids flutter. “Oh my… God.”
“You said it.” He releases my hands so he can stroke my body.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
He glides his hands up my belly, stroking my bare breasts.
Teasing the already swollen nipples.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Another random document with
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 FOOTNOTES
[1] “And I persecuted this way unto the death.” Acts xxii. 4. The
Apostle does not mean any particular sort of death, but death in
general: the Definite Article therefore is improperly used. It ought
to be unto death, without any Article: agreeably to the Original,
αχρι θανατου.
“When He the Spirit of Truth is come, he will guide you into all
Truth.” John xvi. 13. That is, according to this Translation, into all
Truth whatsoever, into Truth of all kinds: very different from the
meaning of the Evangelist, and from the Original, εις πασαν την
αληθειαν, into all the Truth; that is, into all Evangelical Truth.
“Truly this was the Son of God.” Matt. xxvii. 54. and Mark xv.
39. This Translation supposes, that the Roman Centurion had a
proper and adequate notion of the character of Jesus, as the Son
of God in a peculiar and incommunicable sense: whereas, it is
probable, both from the circumstances of the History, and from
the expression of the Original, (ὑιος Θεου, a Son of God, not ὁ
υιος, the Son) that he only meant to acknowledge him to be an
extraordinary person, and more than a mere man; according to
his own notion of Sons of Gods in the Pagan Theology. This is
also more agreeable to St. Luke’s account of the same confession
of the Centurion: “Certainly this was δικαιος, a righteous man;” not
ὁ Δικαιος, the Just One. The same may be observed of
Nebuchadnezzar’s words, Dan. iii. 25.—“And the form of the
fourth is like the Son of God:” it ought to be by the Indefinite
Article, like a Son of God: ὁμοια ὑιῳ Θεου, as Theodotion very
properly renders it: that is, like an Angel; according to
Nebuchadnezzar’s own account of it in the 28th verse: “Blessed
be God, who hath sent his Angel, and delivered his servants.”
See also Luke xix. 9.
These Remarks may serve to shew the great importance of the
proper use of the Article; the near affinity there is between the
Greek Article, and the English Definite Article; and the excellence
of the English Language in this respect, which by means of its two
Articles does most precisely determine the extent of signification
of Common Names: whereas the Greek has only one Article, and
it has puzzled all the Grammarians to reduce the use of that to
any clear and certain rules.
[2] “A good character should not be rested in as an end, but
employed as a means of doing still farther good.” Atterbury’s
Sermons. Ought it not to be a mean?
[3] “About an eight days:” that is, a space of eight days. Luke ix.
28. But the expression is obsolete, or at least vulgar; and we may
add likewise improper: for the number eight has not been reduced
by use and convenience into one collective and compact idea,
like a hundred, and a thousand; each of which, like a dozen, or a
score, we are accustomed equally to consider on certain
occasions as a simple Unity.
[4] And antiently, eyen, shoen, housen, hosen; so likewise
antiently sowen, cowen, now always pronounced and written
swine, kine.
[5] In the German the vowels a, o, u, of monosyllable Nouns
are generally in the Plural changed into diphthongs with an e: as
der hand, the hand, die hände; der hut, the hat, die hüte; der
knopff, the button, (or knop) die knöpffe; &c.
[6] These are directly from the Saxon: mus, mys; lus, lys; toth,
teth; fot, fet; gos, ges.
[7] “Lingua Anglorum hodierna avitæ Saxonicæ formam in
plerisque orationis partibus etiamnum retinet. Nam quoad
particulas casuales, quorundam casuum terminationes,
conjugationes verborum, verbum substantivum, formam passivæ
vocis, pronomina, participia, conjunctiones, & præpositiones
omnes; denique quoad idiomata, phrasiumque maximam partem,
etiam nunc Saxonicus est Anglorum sermo.” Hickes. Thesaur.
Lingg. Septent. Præf. p. vi. To which may be added the Degrees
of comparison, the form of which is the very same in the English
as in the Saxon.
[8] “Christ his sake,” in our Liturgy, is a mistake, either of the
Printers, or of the Compilers.⸺“My paper is the Ulysses his
bow, in which every man of wit or learning may try his strength.”
Addison, Guardian Nᵒ 98. This is no slip of Mr. Addison’s pen: he
gives us his opinion upon this point very explicitly in another
place. “The same single letter [s] on many occasions does the
office of a whole word, and represents the his and her of our
forefathers.” Addison, Spect. Nᵒ 135. The latter instance might
have shewn him, how groundless this notion is: for it is not easy
to conceive, how the letter s added to a Feminine Noun should
represent the word her; any more than it should the word their,
added to a Plural Noun: as, “the children’s bread.” But the direct
derivation of this Case from the Saxon Genitive Case is sufficient
of itself to decide this matter.
[9]

“At his command th’ uprooted hills retir’d

Each to his place: they heard his voice and went
Obsequious: Heaven his wonted face renew’d,
And with fresh flowrets hill and valley smil’d.”

Milton, P. L. B. vi.

“Was I deceiv’d, or did a sable Cloud

Turn forth her silver lining on the Night?”

Milton, Comus.

“Go to your Natural Religion: lay before her Mahomet and his
disciples arrayed in armour and in blood:⸺shew her the cities
which he set in flames; the countries which he ravaged:⸺when
she has viewed him in this scene, carry her into his retirements;
shew her the Prophet’s chamber, his concubines and his wives:
⸺when she is tired with this prospect, then shew her the
Blessed Jesus.—” See the whole passage in the conclusion of Bp
Sherlock’s 9th Sermon, Vol. I.
In these beautiful passages, as in the English if you put it and
its instead of his, she, her, you destroy the images, and reduce,
what was before highly Poetical and Rhetorical, to mere prose
and common discourse; so if you render them into another
language, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, or German, in which Hill,
Heaven, Cloud, Religion, are constantly Masculine, or Feminine,
or Neuter, respectively, you make the images obscure and
doubtful, and in proportion diminish their beauty.
This excellent remark is Mr. Harris’s, Hermes, p. 58.
[10] Some Writers have used Ye as the Objective Case Plural
of the Pronoun of the Second Person; very improperly and
ungrammatically.

“But Tyrants dread ye, lest your just decree

Transfer the pow’r, and set the people free.”
 Prior.

“His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both.”

Milton, P. L. ii. 734.

Dr. Bently has corrected this mistake, which is probably an

error of the Press, or of the Editor of whom he talks so much. But
he has done it, without taking the least notice of the matter, or
assuming any merit to himself from an emendation, which is one
of the very few that are really such in his whole performance.
[11] The Neuter Pronoun of the Third Person had formerly no
variation of Cases. Instead of the Possessive its they used his,
which is now appropriated to the Masculine. “Learning hath his
infancy, when it is but beginning, and almost childish; then his
youth, when it is luxuriant and juvenile; then his strength of years,
when it is solid and reduced; and lastly his old age, when it
waxeth dry and exhaust.” Bacon, Essay 58. In this example his is
evidently used as the Possessive Case of it: but what shall we
say to the following, where her is applied in the same manner,
and seems to make a strange confusion of Gender? “He that
pricketh the heart maketh it to shew her knowledge.” Ecclus. xxii.
19.

“Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,

Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the lab’ring heart,
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance ’gainst the enemy.”

Shakespear.

If the Poet had said he instead of it, he would have avoided a

confusion of Genders, and happily compleated the spirited and
elegant Prosopopœia, begun by the Personal Relative who. The
Neuter Relative which would have made the sentence more
strictly grammatical, but at the same time more prosaic.
[12] So the Saxon Ic hath the Possessive Case Min; Thu,
Possessive Thin; He, Possessive His: from which our Possessive
Cases of the same Pronouns are taken without alteration. To the
Saxon Possessive Cases hire, ure, eower, hira, (that is, her’s,
our’s, your’s, their’s) we have added the s, the Characteristic of
the Possessive Case of Nouns. Or our’s, your’s, are directly from
the Saxon ures, eoweres; the Possessive Case of the Pronominal
Adjectives ure, eower; that is, our, your.
[13] Whose is by some authors made the Possessive Case of
which, and applied to things as well as persons; I think,
improperly.

“The question, whose solution I require,

Is, what the sex of women most desire.”

Dryden.

“Is there any other doctrine, whose followers are punished?”

Addison.
[14] So the Saxon hwa hath the Possessive Case hwæs. Note,
that the Saxons rightly placed the Aspirate before the w: as we
now pronounce it. This will be evident to any one that shall
consider in what manner he pronounces the words what, when;
that is, hoo-àt, hoo-èn.
[15] Adjectives are very improperly called Nouns; for they are
not the Names of things. The Adjectives good, white, are applied
to the Nouns man, snow, to express the Qualities belonging to
those Subjects; but the Names of those Qualities in the Abstract,
(that is, considered in themselves, and without being attributed to
any Subject) are goodness, whiteness; and these are Nouns, or
Substantives.
[16] The Double Superlative most highest is a Phrase peculiar
to the Old Vulgar Translation of the Psalms, where it acquires a
singular propriety from the Subject to which it is applied, the
Supreme Being, who is higher than the highest.
[17] “Lesser, says Mr. Johnson, is a barbarous corruption of
Less, formed by the vulgar from the habit of terminating
comparisons in er.”

“Attend to what a lesser Muse indites.”

Addis.

Worser sounds much more barbarous, only because it has not

been so frequently used:

“A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far

Than arms, a sullen interval of war.”
 Dryden.

[18] A greater variety of endings to distinguish the Persons in

the Verb is not necessary; as the Verb is always attended with the
Personal Pronoun, wherever an ambiguity would otherwise arise.
For the same reason the Plural termination in en, they loven, they
weren, which was formerly in use, hath been long obsolete.
[19] Thou, in the Polite, and even in the Familiar Style, is
disused, and the Plural You is employed instead of it: we say You
have, not Thou hast. Tho’ in this case we apply You to a single
Person, yet the Verb too must agree with it in the Plural Number:
it must necessarily be You have, not You hast. You was, the
Second Person Plural of the Pronoun placed in agreement with
the First or Third Person Singular of the Verb, is an enormous
Solecism: and yet Authors of the first rank have inadvertently
fallen into it. “Knowing that you was my old master’s good friend.”
Addison, Spect. No 517. “Would to God you was within her
reach.” Lord Bolingbroke to Swift, Letter 46. “If you was here.”
Ditto, Letter 47. “I am just now as well, as when you was here.”
Pope to Swift, P. S. to Letter 56. On the contrary the Solemn Style
admits not of You for a Single Person. This hath led Mr. Pope into
a great impropriety in the beginning of his Messiah:

“O Thou my voice inspire

Who touch’d Isaiah’s hallow’d lips with fire!”

The Solemnity of the Style would not admit of You for Thou in
the Pronoun; nor the measure of the Verse touchedst, or didst
touch, in the Verb; as it indispensably ought to be, in the one, or
the other of these two forms: You who touched; or Thou who
touchedst, or didst touch. Again:

“Just of thy word, in every thought sincere,

Who knew no wish but what the world might hear.”

Pope, Epitaph.

It ought to be your in the first line, or knewest in the second.

[20] This Participle represents the action as complete and
finished; and, being subjoined to the Auxiliary to have, constitutes
the Perfect Time: I call it therefore the Perfect Participle. The
same subjoined to the Auxiliary to be, constitutes the Passive
Verb; and in that state, or when used without the Auxiliary in a
passive sense, is called the Passive Participle.
[21]

“Before the sun,

Before the heav’ns thou wert.”

Milton.

“Remember what thou wert.”

Dryden.

“I knew thou wert not slow to hear.”

Addison.

“Thou who of old wert sent to Israel’s court.”

Prior.

“All this thou wert.”⸺

Pope.

Shall we in deference to these great authorities allow wert to be

the same with wast, and common to the Indicative and
Subjunctive Mode? or rather abide by the practice of our best
antient writers; the propriety of the language, which requires, as
far as may be, distinct forms for different Modes; and the analogy
of formation in each Mode; I was, Thou wast; I were, Thou wert?
all which conspire to make wert peculiar to the Subjunctive Mode.
[22] Note, that the Imperfect and Perfect Times are here put
together. And it is to be observed, that in the Subjunctive Mode,
the event being spoken of under a condition, or supposition, or in
the form of a wish, and therefore as doubtful and contingent, the
Verb itself in the Present, and the Auxiliary both of the Present
and Past Imperfect Times, often carry with them somewhat of a
Future sense: as, “If he come to-morrow, I may speak to him:”
⸺ “If he should, or would, come to-morrow, I might, would,
could, or should, speak to him.” Observe also, that the Auxiliary
should in the Imperfect Times is used to express the Present, as
well as the Past; as, “It is my desire, that he should [now] come;”
as well as, “It was my desire that he should [then] come.” So that
in this Mode the precise Time of the Verb is very much
determined by the nature and drift of the Sentence.
[23]

⸺“Perdition catch my soul

But I do love thee!—”

⸺“This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did.”

Shakespear.

“Die he certainly did.”

Sherlock, Vol. 1. Disc. 7.

“Yes, I did love her:” that is, at that time, or once; intimating a
negation, or doubt, of present love.
“The Lord called Samuel: and he ran unto Eli, and said, Here
am I, for thou calledst me.⸺And the Lord called yet again,
Samuel. And Samuel arose and went to Eli, and said, Here am I,
for thou didst call me.” 1 Sam. iii. 4-6.
[24] This distinction was not observed formerly as to the word
shall, which was used in the Second and Third Persons to
express simply the Event. So likewise should was used, where
we now make use of would. See the Vulgar Translation of the
Bible.
[25] Bishop Wilkins gives the following elegant investigation of
the Modes in his Real Character, Part iii. Chap. 5.
“To shew in what manner the Subject is to be joined with his
Predicate, the Copula between them is affected with a Particle,
which from the use of it is called Modus, the manner or Mode.
Now the Subject and Predicate may be joined together either
Simply, or with some kind of Limitation; and accordingly these
Modes are Primary or Secondary.
The Primary Modes are called by Grammarians Indicative and
Imperative.
When the matter is declared to be so, or at least when it seems
in the Speaker’s power to have it be so, as the bare union of
Subject and Predicate would import, then the Copula is nakedly
expressed without any variation: and this manner of expressing it
is called the Indicative Mode.
When it is neither declared to be so, nor seems immediately in
the Speaker’s power to have it so; then he can do no more in
words but make out the expression of his will to him that hath the
thing in his power; namely to

{ Superior } { Petition, }
his { Equal } by { Persuasion, }
{ Inferior } { Command. }

And the manner of these affecting the Copula, (Be it so, or, let it
be so,) is called the Imperative Mode; of which there are these
three varieties very fit to be distinctly provided for. As for that
other use of the Imperative Mode, when it signifies Permission;
this may be sufficiently expressed by the Secondary Mode of
Liberty; You may do it.
The Secondary Modes are such, as, when the Copula is
affected with any of them, make the Sentence to be (as the
Logicians call it) a Modal Proposition.
This happens, when the matter in discourse, namely, the being,
or doing, or suffering of a thing, is considered, not simply by itself,
but gradually in its causes, from which it proceeds contingently, or
necessarily.
Then a thing seems to be left Contingent, when the Speaker
expresses only the Possibility of it, or his own Liberty to it.
1. The Possibility of a thing depends upon the power of its
cause; and may be expressed

{ Absolute } { Can,
when by the Particle
{ Conditional } { Could.

2. The Liberty of a thing depends upon a freedom from all

obstacles either within or without, and is usually expressed in our
language

{ Absolute } { May,
when by the Particle
{ Conditional } { Might.

Then a thing seems to be of Necessity, when the Speaker

expresseth the resolution of his own will, or some other obligation
upon him from without.
3. The Inclination of the Will is expressed,

{ Absolute } { Will,
if by the Particle
{ Conditional } { Would.

4. The Necessity of a thing from some external Obligation,

whether Natural, or Moral, which we call Duty, is expressed,

{ Absolute } { Must, ought, shall;

if by the Particle
{ Conditional } { Must, ought, should.”

See also Hermes, Book I. Chap. viii.

[26] I doubt much of the propriety of the following examples:
“The rules of our holy Religion, from which we are infinitely
swerved.” Tillotson, Vol. I. Serm. 27. “The whole obligation of that
law and covenant, which God made with the Jews, was also
ceased.” Ib. Vol. II. Serm. 52. “Whose number was now amounted
to three hundred.” Swift, Contests and Dissensions, Chap. 3.
Neuter Verbs are sometimes employed very improperly as
Actives: “I think, it by no means a fit and decent thing to vie
Charities, and to erect the reputation of one upon the ruins of
another.” Atterbury, Vol. I. Serm. 2.
[27] These two have also beaten and bursten in the Participle;
and in that form they belong to the Third Class of Irregulars.
[28] The Verbs marked thus throughout the three Classes of
Irregulars, have the Regular as well as the Irregular form in use.
[29] This Verb in the Past Time and Participle is pronounced
short; read, red, red; like lead, led, led; and perhaps ought to be
written in this manner: our antient writers spelt it redde.
[30] They follow the Saxon rule: “Verbs which in the Infinitive
end in dan and tan,” (that is, in English, d and t; for an is only the
Characteristic termination of the Saxon Infinitive;) “in the Preterit
and Participle Preterit commonly for the sake of better sound
throw away the final ed; as beot, afed, (both in the Preterit and
Participle Preterit) for beoted, afeded; from beotan, afedan.”
Hickes, Grammat. Saxon, cap. 9. So the same Verbs in English,
beat, fed, instead of beated, feeded.
[31] When en follows a Vowel or Liquid the e is dropt: so drawn,
slayn, (or slain,) are instead of drawen, slayen; so likewise
known, born, are for knowen, boren, in the Saxon cnawen, boren:
and so of the rest.
[32] This Verb is also formed like those of i long into i short;
Write, writ, written; and by Contraction writ in the Participle, but, I
think, improperly.
[33] Frequent mistakes are made in the formation of the
Participle of this Verb. The analogy plainly requires sitten; which
was formerly in use: “The army having sitten there so
long:”⸺“Which was enough to make him stir, that would not
have sitten still, though Hanibal had been quiet.” Raleigh. “That
no Parliament should be dissolved, till it had sitten five months.”
Hobbes, Hist. of Civil Wars, p. 257. But it is now almost wholly
disused, the form of the Past Time sat, having taken its place. Dr.
Middleton hath with great propriety restored the true Participle:
⸺“To have sitten on the heads of the Apostles:”⸺“to have
sitten upon each of them.” Works, Vol. II. p. 30. “Blessed is the
man,⸺that hath not sat in the seat of the scornful.” Ps. i. 1. The
old Editions have sit; which may be perhaps allowed as a
Contraction of sitten. “And when he was set, his disciples came
unto him:” καθισαντος αυτου. Matt. v. 1.⸺“who is set on the
right hand;”⸺“and is set down at the right hand of the throne of
God:” in both places εκαθισεν. Heb. viii. 1. & xii. 2. Set can be no
part of the Verb to sit. If it belongs to the Verb to set, the
Translation in these passages is wrong: for to set signifies to
place, but without any designation of the posture of the person
placed; which is a circumstance of importance expressed by the
original.
[34] This Neuter Verb is frequently confounded with the Verb
Active to lay, [that is, to put, or place;] which is Regular, and has
in the Past Time and Participle layed, or laid.
[35] “Thus having chosed each other.⸺” Clarendon, Hist. Vol.
III. p. 797. 8ᵛᵒ. Improperly.
[36] That is, as a bird, volare; whereas to flee signifies fugere,
as from an enemy. This seems to be the proper distinction
between to fly, and to flee; which in the Present Time are very
often confounded. Our Translation of the Bible is not quite free
from this mistake. It hath flee for volare in perhaps seven or eight
places out of a great number; but never fly for fugere.
[37] Essay xxix.
 [38] The whole number of Verbs in the English language,
Regular and Irregular, Simple and Compounded, taken together,
is about 4300. See Dr. Ward’s Essays on the English Language;
the Catalogue of English Verbs.
[39]

⸺“He would have spoke.”

Milton, P. L. x. 517.

“Words interwove with sighs found out their way.”

P. L. i. 621.

“And to his faithful servant hath in place

Bore witness gloriously.”—Samson Ag. ℣. 1752.

“And envious darkness, ere they could return,

Had stole them from me.”—Comus, ℣. 195.

Here it is observable, that the Author’s MS. and the First Edition
have it stolne.

⸺“And in triumph had rode.”

P. R. iii. 36.

⸺“I have chose

This perfect man.”⸺

P. R. i. 165.

⸺“The fragrant brier was wove between.”

Dryden, Fables.

“Then finish what you have began,

But scribble faster, if you can.”

Dryden, Poems, Vol. 2. p. 172.

“Have sprang.”

Atterbury, Vol. 1. Serm. 4.

 “Had spake”⸺“had began.”⸺Clarendon, Contin. Hist. p. 40,
& 120. “The men begun to embellish themselves.” Addison,
Spect. Nᵒ 434.

“Rapt into future times the bard begun.”

Pope, Messiah.

And without the necessity of rhyme:

“A second deluge learning thus o’er-run,

And the Monks finish’d what the Goths begun.”

Essay on Criticism.

“Repeats you verses wrote on glasses.”

Prior.

“Mr. Misson has wrote.”—Addison, Preface to his Travels. “He

could only command his voice, broke with sighs and sobbings, so
far as to bid her proceed.” Addison, Spect. Nᵒ 164.

“No civil broils have since his death arose.”

Dryden, on O. Cromwell.

“Illustrious virtues, who by turns have rose.”

Prior.

⸺“Had not arose.” Swift, Tale of a Tub, Sect. x. and Battle of

Books: and Bolingbroke, Letter to Wyndham, p. 233.⸺“This
nimble operator will have stole it.” Tale of a Tub, Sect. x. “Some
philosophers have mistook.” Ibid. Sect. ix.

⸺“Silence
Was took ere she was ware.”

Milton, Comus.

“Into these common places look,

Which from great authors I have took.”

Prior, Alma.
 “A free Constitution, when it has been shook by the iniquity of
former administrations.” Lord Bolingbroke, Patriot King, p. 111.
⸺“Too strong to be shook by his enemies.” Atterbury. “But there
was now an accident fell out.”⸺Clarendon, Contin. p. 292.

⸺“Ev’n there he should have fell.”

Prior, Solomon.

“Sure some disaster has befell:

Speak, Nurse; I hope the Boy is well.”

Gay, Fables.

[40] “Was the easilier persuaded.”—Raleigh. “The things

highliest important to the growing age.” Lord Shaftesbury, Letter
to Lord Molesworth. Improperly, for more easily, most highly.
[41] The Conjunction because used to express the motive or
end, is either improper or obsolete: as, “The multitude rebuked
them, because they should hold their peace.” Matt. xx. 31. “It is
the case of some, to contrive false periods of business, because
they may seem men of dispatch.” Bacon, Essay xxv. We should
now make use of that.
[42] “He caused all persons, whom he knew had, or he thought
might have, spoken to him, to be apprehended.” Clarendon, Vol.
III. p. 618. 8ᵛᵒ. It ought to be who, the Nominative Case to had;
not whom, as if it were the Objective Case governed by knew.

“Scotland and Thee did each in other live.”

Dryden, Poems, Vol. II. p. 220.

It ought to be Thou.
[43]

“But Thou false Arcite never shall obtain

Thy bad pretence.”⸺

Dryden, Fables.

“That Thou might fortune to thy side engage.”

Prior.
 It ought to be shalt, mightest. The mistake seems to be owing
to the confounding of Thou and You as equivalent in every
respect; whereas one is Singular, the other Plural. See above, p.
48. “Great pains has [have] been taken.” Pope, P. S. to the
Odyssey. “I have considered, what have [hath] been said on both
sides in this controversy.” Tillotson, Vol. I. Serm. 27.
[44]

“Tell who loves who; what favours some partake,

And who is jilted for another’s sake.”

Dryden, Juvenal, Sat. vi.

“Those, who he thought true to his party.” Clarendon, Hist. Vol.

I. p. 667. 8ᵛᵒ. “Who should I meet the other night, but my old
friend?” Spect. Nᵒ 32. “Who should I see in the lid of it, but the
Doctor?” Addison, Spect. Nᵒ 57. “He knows, who it is proper to
expose foremost.” Swift, Tale of a Tub, Conclusion. It ought in all
these places to be whom.
[45] “And restores to his Island that tranquillity and repose, to
which they had been strangers during his absence.” Pope,
Dissertation prefixed to the Odyssey. Island is not a Noun of
Multitude: it ought to be, his people; or, it had been a stranger.
“What reason have the Church of Rome to talk of modesty in this
case?” Tillotson, Vol. I. Serm. 49. “All the virtues of mankind are
to be counted upon a few fingers, but his follies and vices are
innumerable.” Swift, Preface to Tale of a Tub. Is not mankind in
this place a Noun of Multitude, and such as requires the Pronoun
refering to it to be in the Plural Number, their?
[46] “Whom do men say, that I am?⸺But whom say ye, that I
am?” Matt. xvi. 13, 15. So likewise Mark viii. 27, 29. Luke ix. 18,
20. “Whom think ye, that I am?” Acts xiii. 25. It ought in all these
places to be who; which is not governed by the Verb say or think,
but by the Verb am: or agrees in Case with the Pronoun I. If the
Verb were in the Infinitive Mode, it would require the Objective
Case of the Relative, agreeing with the Pronoun me: “Whom think
ye, or do ye think, me to be?”

⸺“To that, which once was thee.”

Prior.
 It ought to be, which was thou; or, which thou wast.
[47] On which place says Dr. Bentley, “The Context demands
that it be,⸺Him descending, Illo descendente.” But him is not
the Ablative Case, for the English knows no such Case; nor does
him without a Preposition on any occasion answer to the Latin
Ablative illo. I might with better reason contend, that it ought to be
“his descending,” because it is in Greek αυτου καταβαινοντος in
the Genitive; and it would be as good Grammar, and as proper
English. This comes of forcing the English under the rules of a
foreign Language, with which it has little concern: and this ugly
and deformed fault, to use his own expression, Bentley has
endeavoured to impose upon Milton in several places: see P. L.
vii. 15. ix. 829, 883, 1147. x. 267, 1001. On the other hand, where
Milton has been really guilty of this fault, he, very inconsistently
with himself, corrects him, and sets him right. His Latin Grammar
Rules were happily out of his head, and by a kind of vernacular
instinct (so, I imagine, he would call it) he perceived that his
Author was wrong.

“For only in destroying I find ease

To my relentless thoughts; and, him destroy’d,
Or won to what may work his utter loss,
For whom all this was made, all this will soon
Follow, as to him link’d in weal or woe.”

P. L. ix. 129.

It ought to be, “he destroy’d,” that is, “he being destroy’d.”

Bentley corrects it, “and man destroy’d.”
Archbishop Tillotson has fallen into the same mistake:
“Solomon was of this mind; and I make no doubt, but he made as
wise and true Proverbs as any body has done since: Him only
excepted, who was a much greater and wiser man than
Solomon.” Vol. I. Ser. 53.
[48] “To see so many to make so little conscience of so great a
sin.” Tillotson, Vol. I. Serm. 22. “It cannot but be a delightful
spectacle to God and Angels to see a young person, besieged by
powerful temptations on either side, to acquit himself gloriously,
and resolutely to hold out against the most violent assaults: to
behold one in the prime and flower of his age, that is courted by
pleasures and honours, by the devil and all the bewitching
vanities of the world, to reject all these, and to cleave stedfastly
unto God.” Ib. Serm. 54. The impropriety of the Phrases
distinguished by Italic Characters is evident.
[49] Το γαρ θελειν παρακειται μοι, το δε κατεργαζεσθαι το καλον
ουχ ευρισχω. Rom. vii. 18.
[50] Προς το θεαθηναι τοις ανθρωποις. Matt. xxiii. 5. The
following sentences seem defective either in the construction, or
the order of the words: “Why do ye that, which is not lawful to do
on the sabbath days?⸺The shew bread, which is not lawful to
eat, but for the priests alone.” Luke vi. 2, 4. The Construction may
be rectified by supplying it; “which it is not lawful to do; which it is
not lawful to eat:” or the order of the words in this manner; “to do
which, to eat which, is not lawful:” where the Infinitive to do, to
eat, does the office of the Nominative Case, and the Relative
which is in the Objective Case.
[51] “I am not like other men, to envy the talents I cannot
reach.” Tale of a Tub, Preface. An improper use of the Infinitive.
[52] This Rule arises from the nature and idiom of our
Language, and from as plain a principle as any on which it is
founded: namely, that a word which has the Article before it, and a
Noun, with the Possessive Preposition of, after it, must be a
Noun; and if a Noun, it ought to follow the Construction of a Noun,
and not have the Regimen of a Verb. It is the Participial
Termination of this sort of words that is apt to deceive us, and
make us treat them as if they were of an amphibious species,
partly Nouns, and partly Verbs. I believe there are hardly any of
our Writers, who have not fallen into this inaccuracy. That it is
such, will perhaps more clearly appear, if we examine and resolve
one or two examples in this kind.
“God, who didst teach the hearts of thy faithful people, by the
sending to them the light of thy Holy Spirit:⸺” Collect,
Whitsunday. Sending is in this place a Noun; for it is accompanied
with the Article: nevertheless it is also a Transitive Verb, for it
governs the Noun light in the Objective Case: but this is
inconsistent; let it be either the one or the other, and abide by its
proper Construction. That these Participial Words are sometimes
real Nouns is undeniable; for they have a Plural Number as such:
as, “the outgoings of the morning.” The Sending is the same with
the Mission; which necessarily requires the Preposition of after it,
to mark the relation between it and the light; the mission of the
light; and so, the sending of the light. The Phrase would be proper
either way, by keeping to the Construction of the Noun, by the
sending of the light; or of the Participle, or Gerund, by sending the
light.
Again:⸺“Sent to prepare the way of thy Son our Saviour, by
preaching of Repentance:⸺” Collect, St. John Baptist. Here the
Participle, or Gerund, hath as improperly the Preposition of after
it; and so is deprived of its Verbal Regimen, by which as a
Transitive it would govern the Noun Repentance in the Objective
Case. Besides, the Phrase is rendered obscure and ambiguous:
for the obvious meaning of it in its present form is, “by preaching
concerning or on the Subject of Repentance;” whereas the sense
intended is, “by publishing the Covenant of Repentance, and
declaring Repentance to be a condition of acceptance with God.”
The Phrase would have been perfectly right and determinate to
this sense either way; by the Noun, by the preaching of
repentance; or by the Participle, by preaching repentance.
[53] These are the three Primary Modes, or manners of
expressing our thoughts concerning the being, doing, or suffering
of a thing. If it comes within our knowledge, we explain it, or make
a declaration of it; if we are ignorant or doubtful of it, we make an
inquiry about it; if it is not immediately in our power, we express
our desire or will concerning it. In Theory therefore the
Interrogative form seems to have as good a Title to a Mode of its
own, as either of the other two; but Practice has determined it
otherwise; and has in all the Languages, with which we are most
acquainted, supplied the place of an Interrogative Mode, either by
Particles of Interrogation, or by a peculiar order of the words in
the sentence. If it be true, as I have somewhere read, that the
Modes of the Verbs are more numerous in the Lapland Tongue
than in any other, possibly the Laplanders may be provided with
an Interrogative Mode.
[54]

“The burning lever not deludes his pains.”

Dryden, Ovid. Metam. B. xii.

“I hope, my Lord, said he, I not offend.”

Dryden, Fables.
 These examples make the impropriety of placing the Adverb
not before the Verb very evident.
[55] “Did he not fear the Lord, and besought the Lord, and the
Lord repented him of the evil, which he had pronounced against
them?” Jer. xxvi. 19. Here the Interrogative and Explicative forms
are confounded. It ought to be, “Did he not fear the Lord, and
beseech the Lord? and did not the Lord repent him of the evil,
⸺?” See likewise Matt. xviii. 12.
[56]

“For ever in this humble cell

Let Thee and I, my fair one, dwell.”

Prior.

It ought to be Me.
[57] It is not easy to give particular rules for the management of
the Modes and Times of Verbs with respect to one another, so
that they may be proper and consistent: nor would it be of much
use; for the best rule that can be given is this very general one, To
observe what the sense necessarily requires. But it may be of use
to consider one or two examples, that seem faulty in these
respects, and to examine where the fault lies.

“Some who the depths of eloquence have found,

In that unnavigable Stream were drown’d.”

Dryden, Juv. Sat. x.

The event mentioned in the first line is plainly prior in time to

that mentioned in the second; this is subsequent to that, and a
consequence of it. The first event is mentioned in the Present
Perfect Time; it is present and compleated; “they have [now]
found the depths of eloquence.” The second event is expressed
in the Past Indefinite Time; it is past and gone, but, when it
happened, uncertain: “they were drown’d.” We observed, that the
last mentioned event is subsequent to the first: but how can the
Past Time be subsequent to the Present? It therefore ought to be
in the second line are drown’d, in the Present Perfect, which is
consistent with the same Time in the first line: or in the first line
had found in the Past Perfect, which would be consistent with the
Past Indefinite in the second line.⸺There seems to be a fault of
the like nature in the following passage:

“But oh! ’twas little that her life

O’er earth and waters bears thy fame:”⸺

Prior.

It ought to be bore in the second line.

Again;

“Him portion’d maids, apprentic’d orphans blest,

The young who labour, and the old who rest.”

Pope, Moral Ep. iii. 267.

The Verb in the first line ought to be in the same Time with
those in the last.
“Had their records been delivered down in the vulgar tongue,
⸺they could not now be understood, unless by Antiquaries,
who made it their study to expound them.” Swift, Letter, on the
English Tongue. Here the latter part of the sentence depends
intirely on the Supposition expressed in the former, “of their
records being delivered down in the vulgar tongue:” therefore
made in the Indicative Mode, which implies no supposition, and in
the Past Indefinite Time, is improper: it would be much better in
the Past Definite, had made; but indeed ought to be in the
Subjunctive Mode, Present or Past Time, should make, or should
have made.
[58] “By this means thou shalt have no portion on this side the
river.” Ezra, iv. 16. “It renders us careless of approving ourselves
to God by religious duties, and by that means securing the
continuance of his goodness.” Atterbury, Sermons. Ought it not to
be, by these means, by those means? or by this mean, by that
mean, in the singular number? as it is used by Hooker, Sidney,
Shakespear, &c. “I have not wept this forty years.” Dryden. “I am
not recommending these kind of sufferings to your liking.” Bishop
Sherlock, Disc. Vol. II. p. 267. So the Pronoun must agree with its
Noun: in which respect let the following example be considered.
“It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age, the
wonderful Civilities that have passed between the nation of
authors and those of readers.” Swift, Tale of a Tub, Sect. x. As to