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This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by
Bill Stackpole. A Christmas Carol byCharles Dickens, Chapter five. The end
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of it, Yes, And thebedpost was his own, The bed was
his own, the room was hisown, best and happiest of all,
the time before him was his ownto make amends in. I will live
in the past, the present,and the future, Scrooge repeated as he
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scrambled out of bed. The spiritsof all three shall strive within me,
O Jacob Marley, Heaven and theChristmas Time be praised for this. I
say it on my knees, OldJacob, on my knees. He was
so fluttered and so glowing with hisgood intentions that his broken voice would scarcely
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answer to his call. He hadbeen sobbing violently in his conflict with the
spirit, and his face was wetwith tears. They are not torn down,
cried Scrooge, folding one of hisbed curtains in his arms. They
are not torn down, rings andall they are here. I am here,
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the shadows of the things that wouldhave been may be dispelled. They
will be, I know they will. His hands were busy with his garments
all this time, turning them insideout, putting them on upside down,
tearing them, mislaying them, makingthem parties to ever free kind of extravagance.
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I don't know what to do,cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in
the same breath, making a perfectlacoon of himself with his stockings. I
am light as a feather, Iam happy as an angel, I am
as merry as a schoolboy, Iam as giddy as a drunken man.
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A Merry Christmas to everybody, Ahappy New Year to all the world.
Hello here, whoop Hello. Hehad frisked into the sitting room and was
now standing there, perfectly winded.There's the saucepan that the gruel was in,
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cried Scrooge, starting off again andgoing round the fireplace. There's the
door by which the ghost of JacobMarley entered. There's the corner where the
ghost of Christmas Present sat. There'sthe window where I saw the wandering spirits.
It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha ha
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ha. Really for a man whohad been out of practice for so many
years. It was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh, the father
of a long, long line ofbrilliant laughs. I don't know what day
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of the month it is, saidScrooge. I don't know how long I've
been among the spirits. I don'tknow anything. I'm quite a baby.
Never mind, I don't care.I'd rather be a baby. Hello,
whoop, hallo. Here he waschecked in his transports by the churches,
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ringing out the lustiest peace he hadever heard. Clash, clang, hammer,
ding dong, bell, bell dong, ding hammer, clang, clash,
Oh, glorious, glorious. Runningto the window, he opened it
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and put out his head. Nofog, no mist, clear, bright,
jovial, stirring, cold cold pipingfor the blood to dance to golden
sunlight, heavenly sky, sweet freshair, merry bells. Oh, glorious,
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glorious. What's to day? CriedScrooge, calling downward to a boy
in Sunday clothes, who perhaps hadloitered in to look about him. Hey
returned the boy with all his mightof wonder. What's to day, my
fine fellow, said Scrooge to day, replied the boy. Why Christmas Day?
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It's Christmas Day, said Scrooge tohimself. I haven't missed it.
The spirits have done it all inone night. They can do anything they
like. Of course they can,of course they can. Hallo, my
fine fellow, hullo, returned theboy. Do you know the poulterers in
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the next street, but one atthe corner, Scrooge inquired. I should
hope I did, replied the lad. An intelligent boy, said Scrooge.
A remarkable boy. Do you knowwhether they've sold the prize turkey that was
hanging up there? Not the littleprize turkey, the big one? What
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the one as big as me?Returned the boy. What a delightful boy,
thought Scrooge. It's a pleasure totalk to him. Yes, my
buck, it's hanging there now,replied the boy. Is it, said
Scrooge, Go and buy it,walk er, exclaimed the boy. No,
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No, I am in earnest.Go and buy it and tell him
to bring it here that I maygive them the direction where to take it.
Come back with the man and I'llgive you a shilling. Come back
with him in less than five minutes, and I'll give you half a crown.
The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady
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hand at a trigger. Who couldhave got a shot off half so fast.
I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's,whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands and
splitting with a laugh. He shan'tknow who sends it. It's twice the
size of tiny Tim Joe Miller nevermade such a joke as sending it to
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Bob's will be. The hand inwhich he wrote the address was not a
steady one. But write it hedid, somehow, and went downstairs to
open the street door, ready forthe coming of the poulterer's man. As
he stood there waiting his arrival,the knocker caught his eye. I shall
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love it as long as I live, cried Scrooge, patting it with his
hand. I scarcely ever looked atit before. What an honest expression it
has in its face. It's awonderful knocker. Here's the turkey, hallo,
whoop, how are you merry Christmas? It was a turkey. He
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never could have stood upon his legsthat bird. He would have snapped him
short off in a minute, likesticks of sealing wax. Why it's impossible
to carry that to Camden Town,said Scrooge, you must have a cab.
The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he
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paid for the turkey, and thechuckle with which he paid for the cab,
and the chuckle with which he recompensedthe boy, were only to be
exceeded by the chuckle with which hesat down breathless in his chair again and
chuckled till he cried. Shaving wasnot an easy task, for his hand
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continued to shake very much, andshaving requires attention, even when you don't
dance while you are at it.But if he had cut the end of
his nose off, he would haveput a piece of sticking plaster over it
and been quite satisfied. He dressedhimself all in his best and at last
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got out into the streets. Thepeople were by this time pouring forth as
he had seen them, With theghost of Christmas present, and walking with
his hands behind him, Scrooge regardedevery one with a delighted smile. He
looked so irresistibly pleasant in a word, that three or four good humored fellows
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said, good morning, sir,a merry Christmas to you, and Scrooge
said often afterwards that of all theblithe sounds he had ever heard, these
were the blithest. In his ears. He had not gone far when coming
on towards him, he beheld theportly gentleman who had walked into his counting
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house the day before, and said, Scrooge and Marley's I believe it sent
a pang across his heart to thinkhow this old gentleman would look upon him
when they met. But he knewwhat path lay straight before him, and
he took it. My dear sir, said Scrooge, quickening his pace,
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and taking the old gentleman by bothhis hands. How do you do?
I hope you succeeded yesterday. Itwas very kind of you. A merry
Christmas to you, sir, misterScrooge, Yes, said Scrooge. That
is my name, and I fearit may not be pleasant to you.
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Allow me to ask your pardon,and will you have the goodness here?
Scrooge whispered in his ear. Lordbless me, cried the gentleman, as
if his breath were taken away.My dear mister Scrooge, are you serious?
If you please? Said Scrooge.Not a farthing less. A great
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many back payments are included in it. I assure you will you do me
that favor, my dear sir,said the other, shaking hands with him.
I don't know what to say tosuch munific Don't say anything, please,
retorted Scrooge. Come and see me. Will you come and see me?
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I will, cried the old gentleman, And it was clear he meant
to do it. Thank'ee, saidScrooge. I am much obliged to you.
I thank you fifty times bless you. He went to church and walked
about the streets and watched the peoplehurrying to and fro and patted children on
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the head, and questioned beggars,and looked down into the kitchens of houses
and up to the windows, andfound that everything could yield him pleasure.
He had never dreamed that any walk, that anything, could give him so
much happiness. In the afternoon,he turned his steps towards his nephew's house.
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He passed the door a dozen timesbefore he had the courage to go
up and knock. But he madea dash and did it. Is your
master at home, my dear,said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl,
very yes, sir, Where ishe, my love, said Scrooge.
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He's in the dining room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show
you upstairs if you please. Thank'e. He knows me, said Scrooge,
with his hand already on the diningroom lock. I'll go in here,
my dear. He turned it gentlyand sidled his face in round the door.
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They were looking at the table,which was spread out in great array.
For these young housekeepers are always nervouson such points, and liked to
see that everything is right. Fred, said Scrooge, dear heart alive.
How his niece by marriage started.Scrooge had forgotten for the moment about her
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sitting in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn't have done it on
any account. Why, bless mysoul, cried Fred, who's that?
It's I, your uncle Scrooge.I have come to dinner. Will you
let me in? Fred? Lethim in. It's a mercy. He
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didn't shake his arm off. Hewas at home in five minutes. Nothing
could be heartier. His niece lookedjust the same. So did Topper when
he came. So did the plumpsister when she came. So did everyone
when they came, wonderful party,wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won der
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full happiness. But he was earlyat the office next morning. Oh,
he was early there. If hecould only be there first and catch Bob
cratch It coming late. That wasthe thing he had set his heart upon.
And he did it. Yes hedid. The clock struck nine,
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no Bob. A quarter past noBob. He was full eighteen minutes and
a half behind his time. Scroogesat with his door wide open that he
might see him come into the tank. His hat was off before he opened
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the door. His comforter too.He was on his stool in a jiffy,
driving away with his pen as ifhe were trying to overtake nine o'clock.
Hallo, growled Scrooge in his accustomedvoice, as near as he could
feign it. What do you meanby coming here at this time of day?
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I am very sorry, sir,said Bob. I am behind my
time, you are, repeated Scrooge. Yes, I think you are.
Step this way, sir, ifyou please. It's only once a year,
sir, pleaded Bob, appearing fromthe tank. It shall not be
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repeated. I was making rather merryyesterday sir, Now, I'll tell you
what my friend said, Scrooge.I am not going to stand this sort
of thing any longer. And thereforehe continued leaping from his stool and giving
Bob such a dig in the waistcoatthat he staggered back into the tank again.
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And therefore I am about to raiseyour salary. Bob trembled and got
a little nearer to the ruler.He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge
down with it, holding him andcalling to the people in the court for
help and a straight waistcoat. Amerry Christmas, Bob, said Scrooge,
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with an earnestness that could not bemistaken as he clapped him on the back.
A merrier Christmas, Bob, mygood fellow, than I have given
you for many a year. I'llraise your salary and endeavor to assist your
struggling family, and we will discussyour affairs this very afternoon over a Christmas
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bowl of smoking Bishop, Bob,make up the fires and buy another coal.
Scuttle before you dot another eye,Bob cratchit. Scrooge was better than
his word. He did it alland infinitely more. And to tiny Tim
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who did not die. He wasa second father. He became as good
a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the
good old city knew, or asany other good old city, town or
borough in the good old world.Some people laughed to see the alteration in
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him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them, for he
was wise enough to know that nothingever happened on this globe for good at
which some people did not have theirfill of laughter in the outset, And
knowing that such as these would beblind anyway, he thought it quite as
well that they should wrinkle up theireyes in grins, as have the malady
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in less attractive forms. His ownheart laughed, and that was quite enough
for him. He had no furtherintercourse with spirits, but lived upon the
total abstinence principle ever afterwards. Andit was always said of him that he
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knew how to keep Christmas well.If any man alive possessed the knowledge,
may that be truly said of usand all of us, And so as
tiny tim observed, God bless usevery one. End of chapter five,
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end of a Christmas Carol by CharlesDickens, recorded by Bill Stackpole, November
twenty seven, two thousand and five, Rochester, New York