November 9, 2023 • 44 mins
"A Christmas Carol" is a classic novella by Charles Dickens that tells the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old man who undergoes a transformation on Christmas Eve. Visited by three spirits, he learns the true meaning of Christmas and becomes a generous and compassionate person, embracing the holiday spirit. The story highlights themes of redemption, kindness, and the power of love, making it a beloved and enduring Christmas tale.
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,visit LibriVox dot org. A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens Stave three, thesecond of the three spirits. Awaking in
the middle of a prodigiously tough snoreand sitting up in bed to get his
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thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasionto be told that the bell was again
upon the stroke of one. Hefelt that he was restored to consciousness in
the right nick of time for theespecial purpose of holding a conference with the
second messenger despatched to him through JacobMarley's intervention. But finding that he turned
uncomfortably cold when he began to wonderwhich of his curtains this new specter would
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draw back, he put them everyone aside with his own hands, and,
lying down again, established a sharplook out all around the bed,
for he wished to challenge the Spiriton the moment of its appearance, and
did not wish to be taken bysurprise and made nervous gentlemen of the free
and easy sort, who plumed themselveson being acquainted with a move or two,
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and being usually equal to the timeof day, expressed their wide range
of their capacity for adventure by observingthat they are good for anything from pitch
and toss to manslaughter, between whichopposite extremes no doubt there lies a tolerably
wide and comprehensive range of subjects.Without venturing. For Scrooge quite as heartily
as this, I don't mind callingon you to believe that he was ready
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for a good broad field of strangeappearances, and that nothing between a baby
and a rhinoceros would have astonished himvery much. Now, being prepared for
almost anything, he was not,by any means prepared for nothing. And
consequently, when the bell struck oneand no shape appeared, he was taken
with a violent fit of trembling.Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter
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of an hour went by, yetnothing came. All this time he lay
upon his bed the very core andcenter of a blaze of reddy light,
which streamed upon it when the clockproclaimed the hour, and which, being
only left light, was more alarmingthan a dozen ghosts, as he was
powerless to make out what it meantor would be at, and was sometimes
apprehensive that he might be at thatvery moment, an interesting case of spontaneous
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combustion, without having the consolation ofknowing it. At last, however,
he began to think as you orI would have thought at first, For
it's always the person not in thepredicament who knows what ought to have been
done in it, and would unquestionablyhave done it too. At last,
I say, he began to thinkthat the source and secret of this ghostly
light might be in the adjoining room. From whence on further tracing it,
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it seemed to shine. This idea. Taking full possession of his mind,
he got up softly and shuffled inhis slippers to the door. The moment
Scrooge's hand was on the lock,a strange voice called him by his name
and bade him enter. He obeyed. It was his own room, there
was no doubt about that, Butit had undergone a surprising transformation. The
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walls and ceiling were so hung withliving green that it looked like a perfect
grove, from every part of whichbright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves
of holly, mistletoe and ivy reflectedback the light, as if so many
little mirrors had been scattered there,and such a mighty blaze went roaring up
the chimney, as that dull petrificationof a hearth had never known in Scrooge's
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time, or Marley's, or formany and many a winter season gone.
Heaped up upon the floor to forma kind of throne were turkeys, geese,
game, poultry, brown, greatjoints of meat, sucking pigs,
long breaths of sausages, mince pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters,
red hot chestnuts, cherry cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
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twelfth cakes, and seething bowls ofpunch that made the chamber dim with their
delicious steam. In easy state,upon this couch there sat a jolly giant,
glorious to see, who bore aglowing torch in shape not unlike Plenty's
horn, and held it up highup to shed its light on Screoge as
he came peeping around the door.Come in, exclaimed the ghost, Come
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in and know me better. Man. Scrooge entered timidly and hung his head
before this spirit. He was notthe dogged Scrooge he had been, And
though the spirit's eyes were clear andkind. He did not like to meet
them. I am the ghost ofChristmas present, said the spirit. Look
upon me. Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple green
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robe or mantle, warded with whitefur. This garment hung so loosely on
the figure that its capacious breast wasbare, as if disdaining to be warded
or concealed by any artifice. Itsfeet, observable beneath the ample folds of
the garment, were also bare,and on its head it wore no other
covering than a holly wreath, sethere and there with shining icicles. Its
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dark brown curls were long and free, free as its genial face, its
sparkling eye, its opening hand,its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor,
and its joyful air. Girded roundits middle was an antique scabbard, but
no sword was in it, andthe ancient sheath was eaten up with rest.
You have never seen the like ofme before, exclaimed the spirit.
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Never Scrooge made to answer. Ithave never walked forth with the young members
of my family, meaning, forI'm very young. My elder brother is
born in these later years pursued thephantom. I don't think I have,
said Scrooge. I'm afraid I havenot. Have you many brothers, spirit,
more than eighteen hundred, said theghost, a tremendous family to provide
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for muttered Scrooge. The ghost ofChristmas present rose Spirit, said Scrooge submissively,
Conduct me where you will. Iwent forth last night on compulsion,
and I learned a lesson which isworking now tonight. If you have ought
to teach me, let me profitby it. Touch my robe. Scrooge
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did as he was told and heldit fast. Holly, mistletoe, red
berries, ivy, turkey's geese came, poultry, brawn, meat, pig
sausages, oysters, pies, pudding, spruit, and punch. All vanished
instantly, so did the room,the fire, the ruddy glow, the
hour of night. And they stoodin the city streets on Christmas morning,
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where for the weather was severe.The people made a rough, but brisk
and not unpleasant kind of music inscraping the snow from the pavement in front
of their dwellings and from the topsof their houses. Whence it was mad
delight to the boys to see itcome plumping down into the road below,
and splitting into artificial little snow storms. The house fronts looked black enough,
and the windows blacker, contrasting withthe smooth white sheet of snow upon the
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roofs, and with the dirtier snowupon the ground, which last deposit had
been plowed up in deep froze bythe heavy wheels of carts and wagons,
furrows that crossed and recrossed each otherhundreds of times, where the great streets
branched off and made intricate channels hardto trace in the thick yellow mud and
icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up
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with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended
in a shower of sooty atoms,as if all the chimneys in Great Britain
had, by one consent caught fireand were blazing away to their dear heart's
content. There was nothing very cheerfulin the climate or the town, and
yet there was an air of cheerfulnessabroad that the clearest summer air and brightest
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summer sun might have endeavored to diffusein vain for the people who were shoveling
away on the housetops, were jovialand full of glee, calling out to
one another from the parapets, andnow and then exchanging a facetious snowball,
better natured missile, far than manya wordy jest, laughing heartily if it
went right, and not less heartilyif it went wrong. The poulterer's shops
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were still half open, and thefruiterers were radiant in their glory. There
were great, round, pot belliedbaskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats
of jolly old gentlemen, lolling atthe doors and tumbling out into the street
in their apoplectic opulence. They wereruddy, brown faced, broad girthed Spanish
onions, shining in the fatness oftheir growth like Spanish friars, and winking
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from their shelves in wanton slyness ofthe girls as they went by and glanced
demurely at the hung up mistletoe.There were pairs and apples clustered high and
blimming pyramids. There were bunches ofgrapes, made in the shopkeeper's benevolence to
dangle from conspicuous hooks that people's mouthsmight water gratis. As they passed.
There were piles of filberts, mossyand brown, recalling in their fragrance ancient
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walks among the woods, and pleasantshufflings ankle deep through withered leaves. There
were Norfolk biffins, squat and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges
and lemons, and in the greatcompactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating
and beseeching to be carried home inpaper bags and eaten after dinner. The
very gold and silver fish set forthamong these choice fruits in a bowl,
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though members of a dull and stagnantblooded race appeared to know that there was
something going on, and two offish went gasping round and round in their
little world in slow and passionless excitement. The grocers, oh, the grocers
nearly closed with perhaps two shutters downor one. But through those gap such
glimpses, and it was not alonethat the scales descending on the counter made
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a merry sound, or that thetwine and roller parted company so briskly,
or that the canisters were rattled upand down like juggling tricks, or even
that the blended scents of teas andcoffee were so grateful to the nose,
or even that the raisins so plentifuland rare, the almonds so extremely white,
the sticks of cinnamon so long andstraight, the other spices so delicious,
the candied fruits so caked and spottedwith molten sugar as to make the
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coldest lookers on feel faint and subsequentlybioless. Nor was it that the figs
were moist and pulpy, or thatthe French plums blushed in modest tartness from
their highly decorated boxes, or thateverything was good to eat and in its
Christmas dress. But the customers wereall so hurried and so eager in the
hopeful promise of the day, thatthey tumbled up against each other at the
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door, crashing their whisker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter,
and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like
mistakes and the best humor possible.While the grocer and his people were so
frank and fresh that the polished heartswith which they fastened their aprons behind might
have been their own, worn outsidefor general inspection and for Christmas DAWs to
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peck at if they chose. Butsoon the steeples called good people all to
church and chapel, and away theycame, flocking through the streets in their
best clothes and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged
from scores of by streets, lanesand nameless turnings, innumerable people carrying their
dinners to the baker's shops. Thesight of these poor revelers appeared to interest
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the Spirit very much, for hestood with Scrooge beside him in a baker's
doorway, and, taking off thecovers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense
on their dinners from his torch.And it was a very uncommon kind of
torch. For once or twice,when there were angry words between some dinner
carriers who jostled each other, heshed a few drops of water on them
from it, and the good humorwas restored directly, For they said it
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was a shame to quarrel upon ChristmasDay, and so it was God love
it. So it was in timethe bells ceased, and the bakers were
shut up. And yet there wasa genial shadowing forth of all these dinners
in the progress of their cooking inthe thawed blotch of wet above each baker's
oven, where the pavement smoked asif its stones were cooking too. Is
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there a peculiar flavor in what yousprinkle from your torch, asked Scrooge.
There is my own. Would itapply to any kind of dinner on this
day, asked Scrooge, to anykindly given to a poor one most?
Why do a poor one most,asked Scrooge, because it needs it most,
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spirit, said Scrooge, after amoment's thought. I wonder you,
of all the bias in the manyworlds about us, should desire to cramp
these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment,I cried the Spirit. You would deprive
them of their means of Every seventhday, often the only dawn which they
can be said to dine at all, said Scrooge. Wouldn't you, I
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cried the Spirit. You seek toclose these places on the seventh day,
said Scrooge. And it comes tothe same thing. I seek forgive me
if I'm wrong. It has beendone in your name, or at least
in that of your family, saidScrooge. There are some upon this earth
of yours returned the Spirit who layclaim to know us, and who do
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their deeds of passion, pride,ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry,
and selfishness in our name, whoare as strange to us and all
our kith and kin as if they'dnever lived, Remember that, and charge
their doings on themselves, not us. Scrooge promised that he would, and
they went on, invisible as theyhad been before, into the suburbs of
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the town. It was a remarkablequality of the Ghost which Scrooge had observed
at the Baker's, that notwithstanding hisgigantic size, he could accommodate himself to
any place with ease, and thathe stood beneath a low roof quite as
gracefully and like a supernatural creature asit was possible he could have done in
any lofty hall. And perhaps itwas the pleasure the Good Spirit had in
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showing off this power of his,or else it was his own kind,
generous, hearty nature, and hissympathy with all poor men that led him
straight to Scrooge's clerks, For therehe went and took Scrooge with him,
holding to his robe, and onthe threshold of the door, the spirit
smiled and stopped to bless Bob Cratchett'sdwelling with the sprinkling of his torch.
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Think of that Bob had but fifteenbob a week himself he pocketed on Saturdays,
but fifteen copies of his Christian name, And yet the ghost of Christmas
present blessed his four roomed house.Then up rose Missus Cratchett, Cratchett's wife,
dressed out but poorly in a twiceturned gown, but brave in ribbons,
which are cheap and make a goodlyshow for sixpence, and she laid
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the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchett, second of her daughters, also brave
and ribbons, while Master Peter Cratchettplunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes,
and getting the corners of his monstrousshirt collar Bob's private property conferred upon
his son and heir in honor ofthe day, into his mouth, rejoiced
to find himself so gallantly attired,and yearned to show his linen in the
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fashionable parks. And now two smallerCratchetts, boy and girl, came tearing
in, screaming that outside the Baker'sthey had smelt the goose and had known
it for their own, and baskingin luxurious thoughts of sage and onion,
these young Cratchets danced about the tableand exalted Master Peter Cratchett to the skies,
while he not proud, although hiscollars nearly choked him, blew the
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fire until the slow potatoes bubbling upknocked loudly at the saucepan lid to be
let out and peeled. What hasever got your precious father, then,
said Missus Cratchett, and your poorthertiny tim and Martha warned his late last
Christmas day by half an hour.Here's Martha, mother, said a girl
appearing as she spoke. Here's Martha, mother, cried the two young Cratchets.
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Hooray, there's such a goose,Martha. Why bless my heart alive?
Dear, how late you are,said missus Cratchit, kissing her a
dozen times and taking off her shawland bonnet for her with the ficious deal.
We'd a deal of work to finishup last night, replied the girl,
and I had to clear away thismorning. Mother. Well, never
mind, so long as you're come, said missus CRATCHITTT Sit ye down before
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the fire, my dear, andhave a warm lord. Bless ye.
No, no, there's father coming, cried the two young Cratchets, who
were everywhere at once. Hide Martha, Hide. So Martha hid herself,
and in came little Bob the Father, with at least three feet of comfort,
or exclusive of the fringe hanging downbefore him, and his threadbare clothes,
darned up and brushed to look seasonable, and tiny Tim upon his shoulder.
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Alas for tiny Tim, he borea little crutch and had his limbs
supported by an iron frame. Whywhere's are Martha, cried Bob Cratchitt,
looking round. Not coming, saidmissus Cratchittt. Not coming, said Bob,
with a sudden declension in his highspirits, for he had been Tim's
blood horse all the way from churchand had come home rampant. Not coming
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upon Christmas Day. Martha didn't liketo see him disappointed, if it were
only in joke, so she cameout prematurely from behind the closet door and
ran into his arms, while thetwo young Cratchets hustled Tiny Tim and bore
him off to the wash house thathe might hear the pudding singing in the
copper. And how did little Timbehave, asked missus Cratchett when she'd rallied
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Bob on his credulity, and Bobhad hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
As good as gold, said Bob, and better. Somehow he gets
thoughtful sitting by himself so much,and he thinks the strangest things you've ever
heard, he told me coming home. Then he hoped the people saw him
in the church, because he wasa cripple, and it might be pleasant
to them to remember upon Christmas Daywho made lam beggars walk and blind men
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see. Bob's voice was tremulous whenhe told them this, and he trembled
some more when he said that tinyTim was growing strong and hearty. His
active little crutch was heard upon thefloor, and back came tiny Tim before
another word was spoken, escorted byhis brother and sister to his stool before
the fire, And while Bob,turning up his cuffs, as if poor
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fellow they were capable of being mademore shabby, compounded some hot mixture in
a jug with gin and lemons,and stirred it round and round, and
put it on the hob to simmermaster Peter and the two ubiquitous young crotchets
went to fetch the goose, withwhich they soon returned in high procession.
Such a bustle ensued that you mighthave thought a goose the rarest of all
birds, a feathered phenomenon, towhich a black swan was a matter of
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course, And in truth it wassomething very like it. In that house,
Missus Cratchett made the gravy ready beforehandin a little saucepan, hissing hot,
Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incrediblevigor. Miss Belinda sweetened up the
apple sauce. Martha dusted the hotplates. Bob took tiny tin beside him
in a tiny corner at the table, the two young cracks set chairs for
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everybody, not forgetting themselves, andmounting guard upon their posts, cram spoons
into their mouths lest they should shriekfor goose before their turn came to be
helped. At last, the disheswere set on, and grace was said.
It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Missus Cratchett, looking slowly
all along the carving knife, preparedto plunge it in the breast. But
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when she did, and when thelong expected gush of stuffing issued forth,
one murmur of delight arose all aroundthe board. An even tiny tim,
excited by the two young Cratchets,beat on the table with the handle of
his knife and feebly cried, Hurrah, there was never such a goose.
Bob said he didn't believe there wasever such a goose. Cooked, its
tenderness and flavorish size and cheapness werethe themes of universal admiration eked out by
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apple sauce and mashed potatoes. Itwas a sufficient dinner for the whole family.
Indeed, as Missus Cratchett said,with great delight, surveying one small
atom of a bone upon the dish, they hadn't ate it all. At
last, everyone had had enough,and the youngest Cratchets in particular, were
steeped in sage and onion to theeyebrows. But now the plates being changed
by miss Belinda, Missus Cratchett leftthe room alone, too nervous to bear
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witness to take the pudding up andbring it in. Suppose it should not
be done enough, Suppose it shouldbreak in turning out. Suppose somebody should
have got over the wall of thebackyard and stolen it while they were merry
with the goose. The supposition atwhich the two young Cratchets became livid,
all sorts of horrors were supposed.Hello, a great deal of steam,
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the pudding was out of the copper, A smell like a washing day.
That was a cloth, A smelllike an eating house and a pastry cook's
next door to each other, witha laundresses next door to that. That
was the pudding. In half aminute, Missus Cratchett entered, flushed but
smiling proudly, with the pudding likea speckled cannon ball, so hard and
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firm, blazing in half of ahalf a quartern of ignited brandy and bedight
with Christmas hollies stuck into the top. Oh, oh, wonderful pudding.
Bob Cratchett said, and calmly toothat he regarded it as the greatest success
achieved by Missus Cratchett since their marriage. Missus Cratchett said that now the weight
was off her mind, she wouldconfess that she had had her doubts about
the quality of flour. Everybody hadsomething to say about it, but nobody
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said or thought it was at alla small pudding for a large family.
It would have been flat heresy todo so. Any Cratchet would have blushed
to hint at such a thing.At last, the dinner was all done,
the cloth cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up the
compound, and the jug being tastedand considered perfect, apples and oranges were
put upon the table, and ashovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then
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all the Cratchett family drew around thehearth in what Bob Cratchett called a circle,
meaning half a one, and atBob Cratchett's elbow stood the family display
of glass, two tumblers, anda custard cup without a handle. These
held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets
would have done, and Bob servedit out with beaming looks, while the
chestnuts on the fire spun and crackednoisily. Then Bob proposed a Merry Christmas
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to us, all my DearS,God bless us, which the family re
echoed, God bless us, everyone, said Tiny Tim, the last
of all. He sat very closeto his father's side upon his little stool.
Bob held his withered little hand inhis as if he loved the child
and wished to keep him by hisside, and dreaded that he might be
taken from him, Spirit said Scrooge, with an interest he'd never felt before.
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Tell me if tiny tim will live. I see a vacant seat,
replied the ghost, in the poorchimney corner, and a crutch without an
honor carefully preserved. If these shadowsremain unaltered by the future, the child
will die. Oh no, saidScrooge. Oh no, kind spirit say
he will be spared. If theseshadows remain unaltered by the future, none
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other of my race returned, Theghost will find him here. What then,
if he be like to die,he had better do it and decrease
the surplus population. Scrooge hung hishead to hear his own words quoted by
the spirit, and was overcome withpenitence and grief. Man, said the
ghost. If man, you bein heart not adamant forbear that wicked,
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cant until you have discovered what thesurplus is and where it is? Will
you decide what men shall live,what men shall die. It may be
that in the sight of Heaven youare more worthless and less fit to live
than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God, to hear the insect
on the leaf pronouncing on the toomuch life among his hungry brothers in the
dust. Scrooge bent before the ghost'srebuke and trembling, cast his eyes upon
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the ground, but he raised themspeedily on hearing his own name. Mister
Scrooge, said, Bob, Igive you, mister Scrooge, the founder
of the feast, the founder ofthe feast. Indeed, cried Missus Cratchett,
reddening. I wish I had himhere. I'd give him a piece
of my mind to feast upon,and I hope he'd have a good appetite
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for it. My dear, saidBob the children Christmas Day. It should
be Christmas Day, I am sure, she said, on which one drinks
the health of such an odious,stingy, hard, unfeeling man as mister
Scrooge. You know he is Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do,
poor fellow, my dear, wasBob's mild answer. Christmas Day.
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I'll drink to his health for yoursake and the days, said Missus Cratchett.
But not for his long life.To him, Merry Christmas and a
happy New Year. He'll be verymerry and very happy. I have no
doubt. The children drank the toastafter her. It was the first of
their proceedings which had no heartiness.Tiny Tim drank it last of all,
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but he didn't care tuppence for it. Scrooge was the ogre of the family.
The mention of his name cast adark shadow on the party, which
was not dispelled for full five minutesafter it had passed away. They were
ten times merrier than before from themere relief of Scrooge. The baleful being
done with. Bob Cratchett told themhow he had a situation in his eye
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for Master Peter, which would bringin if obtained full five and sixpence weekly.
The two young Cratchets laughed tremendously atthe idea of Peter's being a man
of business, and Peter himself lookedthoughtfully at the fire from between his collars,
as if he were deliberating what particularinvestments he should favor when he came
into the receipt of that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice
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at a milliner's, then told themwhat kind of work she had to do
and how many hours she worked ata stretch, and how she meant to
lie abed tomorrow morning for a goodlong rest, tomorrow being a holiday she
passed at home. Also how shehad seen a countess and a lord some
days before, and how the lordwas much about as tall as Peter,
at which Peter pulled up his collarso high that you couldn't have seen his
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head if you'd been there. Allthis time, the chestnuts and the jug
went round and round, and bya they had a song about a lost
child traveling in the snow, fromTiny Tim, who had a plaintive little
voice, and sang it very well. Indeed, there was nothing of high
mark in this. They were nota handsome family. They were not well
dressed, their shoes were far frombeing waterproof, their clothes were scanty,
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and Peter might have known, andvery likely did the inside of the pawnbroker's.
But they were happy, grateful,pleased with one another, and contented
with the time. And when theyfaded they looked happier yet in the bright
sprinklings of the spirit's torch. Atparting, Scrooge had his eye upon them,
and especially on Tiny Tim, untilthe last. By this time it
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was getting dark and snowing pretty heavily, And as Scrooge and the Spirit went
along the streets, the brightness ofthe roaring fires in the kitchens, parlors,
and all sorts of rooms was wonderful. Here the flickering of the blaze
showed preparations for a cozy dinner,with hot plates baking through and through before
the fire, and deep red curtainsready to be drawn to shut out cold
and darkness. There all the childrenof the house were running out into the
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snow to meet their married sisters,brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts,
and to be the first to greetthem. Here again were shadows on the
window blind of guests assembling, andthere was a group of handsome girls,
all hooded and fur booted, andall chattering at once tripped lightly off to
some near neighbor's house, where woeupon the single men who saw them enter.
Artful witches. Well, they knewit in a glow. But if
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you had judged from the numbers ofpeople on their way to friendly gatherings,
you might have thought that no onewas at home to give them welcome when
they got there. Instead of everyhouse expecting company and piling up its fires,
half chimney high blessings on it,and how the ghost exulted, how
it bared its breadth of breast andopened its capacious palm, and floated on
outpouring with a generous hand its brightand harmless mirth on everything within its reach.
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The very lamp lighter, who ranon before, dotting the dusky street
with specks of light, and whowas dressed to spend the evening somewhere,
laughed out loudly as the spirit passed. The little kenned the lamp lighter than
he any company but Christmas. Andnow, without a word of warning from
the ghost, they stood upon ableak and desert moor, where monstrous masses
of rude stone were cast about asthough it were the burial place of giants,
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and water spread itself wherever so itlisted, or would have done so,
but for the frost that held itprisoner, and nothing grew but moss
and furs and coarse rank grass.Down in the west, the setting sun
had left a streak of fiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an
instant like a sullen eye, andfrowning lower lower lower, Yet was lost
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in the thick gloom of darkest night. What place is this, asked Scrooge.
A place where miners live, wholabor in the bowels of the earth,
returned the Spirit, But they knowme. See A light shone from
the window of a hut, andswiftly they advanced toward it. Passing through
the wall of mud and stone,they found a cheerful company assembled round a
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glowing fire, an old old manin wane, with their children and their
children's children, and another generation beyondthat, all decked out gaily in their
holiday attire. The old man,in a voice that seldom rose above a
howling of the wind upon the barrenwaste, was singing them a Christmas song.
It had been a very old songwhen he was a boy, and
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from time to time they all joinedin the chorus. So surely as they
raised their voices, the old mangot quite blithe and loud, and so
surely as they stopped, his vigorsank again. The Spirit did not tarry
here, but bade Scrooge hold hisrobe, and, passing on above the
moor, sped whither not to seeto see to Scrooge his horror. Looking
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back, he saw the last ofthe land, a frightful range of rocks
behind them, and his ears weredeafened by the thundering of water as it
rolled and roared and raged among thedreadful caverns it had worn and fiercely tried
to undermine the earth. Built upona dismal reef of sunken rocks, some
league or so from shore, onwhich the waters chafed and dashed the wild
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earth thread, there stood a solitarylighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to
its base, and storm birds,born of the wind, one might suppose,
as seaweed of the water rose andfell about it like the waves they
skimmed. But even here two menwho watched the light had made a fire
that, through the loophole in thethick stone wall, shed out a ray
of brightness on the awful sea.Joining their horny hands over the rough table
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at which they sat, they wishedeach other Merry Christmas in their can of
grog. And one of them,the elder, too, with his face
all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figurehead of an old ship,
might be, struck up a sturdysong that was like a gale in
itself. Again, the ghosts spedon above the black and heaving sea on
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on until being far away, ashe told Scrooge, from any shore they
lighted on a ship, they stoodbeside, the helmsman at the wheel,
the lookout in the bow, theofficers who had the watch, dark ghostly
figures in their several stations, Butevery man among them hummed a Christmas tune,
a Christmas thought, or spoke belowhis breath to his companion of some
by gone Christmas Day, with homewardhopes belonging to it. And every man
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on board, waking or sleeping,good or bad, had either a kinder
word for another on that day thanon any day in the year, and
had shared to some extent in itsfestivities, and had remembered those he cared
for at a distance, and hadknown that they delighted to remember him.
It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the
wind, and thinking what a solemnthing it was to move through the lonely
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darkness over an unknown abyss whose deathswere secrets as profound as death. It
was a great surprise to Scrooge whilethus engaged to hear a hearty laugh.
It was a much greater surprise toScrooge to recognize it as his own nephews,
and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room with the
Spirit standing smiling by his side,and looking at that same nephew with approving
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affability. Ha ha ha ha haha ha ha, laughed Scrooge's nephew.
If you should happen, by anyunlikely chance to know a man more blessed
in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew,all I can say is I should like
to know him too. Introduce himto me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance.
It's a fair, even handed,noble adjustment of things that while there
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is infection and disease and sorrow,there is nothing in the world so irresistibly
contagious as laughter and good humor.When Scrooge's nephew laughed in this way,
holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most
extravagant contortions, Scrooge's niece by marriagelaughed as heartily as he, and their
assembled friends, being not a bitbehindhand, whirred out lustily. He said
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that Christmas was a humbug as Ilive, cried Scrooge's nephew. He believed
it too. More shame for him, Fred said Scrooge's niece indignantly. Bless
those women. They never do anythingby halves. They are always in earnest.
She was very pretty, exceedingly pretty, with a dimpled, surprised looking
capital face, little mouth that seemedmade to be kissed as no doubt,
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it was all kinds of good littledots about her chin that melted into one
another when she laughed, and thesunniest pair of eyes that you ever saw
in any little creature's head. Together, she was what you would have called
provoking, you know, but satisfactorytoo, Oh, perfectly satisfactory. He's
a comical old fellow, said Scrooge'snephew, that's the truth, and not
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so unpleasant as he might be.However, his offenses carry their own punishment,
and I have nothing to say againsthim. I'm sure he is very
rich, Fred hinted Scrooge's niece.At least you always tell me so.
What of that, my dear,said Scrooge's nephew. His wealth is of
no use to him. He doesn'tdo any good with it, He doesn't
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make himself comfortable with it. Hehasn't the satisfaction of thinking, ha that
he's ever gonna benefit us with it. I have no patience with him,
observed Scrooge's niece. Scrooge's nieces,sisters, and all the other ladies expressed
the same opinion. Oh, Ihave since Scrooge's nephew. I'm sorry for
him. I couldn't be angry withhim if I tried. Who suffers by
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his ill whims himself always here.He takes it into his head to dislike
us, and he won't come anddine with us. What's the consequence.
He don't lose much of a dinner. Indeed, I think he loses a
very good dinner, interrupted Scrooge's niece. Everybody else said the same. And
they must be allowed to have beencompetent judges, because they had just had
dinner, and with the dessert uponthe table, were clustered around the fire
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by lamplight. Well, I'm veryglad to hear it, said Scrooge's nephew,
because I haven't got great faith inthese young housekeepers. What do you
say topper? Topper had clearly gothis eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's sisters,
for he answered that a bachelor wasa wretched outcast who had no right
to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's sister, the plump
one with the lace tucker, notthe one with the roses blushed. Do
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go on, fred, said Scrooge'sniece, clapping her hands. He never
finishes what he begins to say.He's such a ridiculous fellow, Scrooge's nephew
reveled in another laugh. And asit was impossible to keep the infection off,
though the plump sister tried hard todo it with aromatic vinegar, his
example was unanimously followed. I wasonly going to say, said Scrooge's nephew,
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that the consequence of his taking adislike to us and not making merry
with us is as I think thathe loses some pleasant moments which could do
him no harm. I am surehe loses pleasanter companions than he can find
in his own thoughts, either inhis moldy old office or his dusty chambers.
I mean to give him the samechance every year, whether he likes
it or not, for I pityhim. He may rail at Christmas till
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he dies but he can't help thinkingbetter of it. I defy him if
he finds me going there in goodtemper year after year and saying, Uncle
Scrooge, how are you if itonly puts him in the vein to leave
his poor clerk fifty pounds that something, And I think I shook him yesterday.
It was their turned to laugh nowat the notion of his shaking Scrooge.
But being thoroughly good natured and notmuch carrying what they laughed at,
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so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment and
passed the bottle joyously. After tea, they had some music, for they
were a musical family, and knewwhat they were about when they sung a
glear catch. I can assure you, especially Topper, who could growl away
in the base like a good one, and never swell the large veins in
his forehead or get rid in theface over it. Scrooge's niece played well
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upon the harp, and played,among other tunes, a simple little air,
a mere nothing. You might learnto whistle it in two minutes,
which had been familiar to the childwho fetched Scrooge from the boarding school,
as he had been reminded by theghost of Christmas past. When the strain
of music sounded, all the thingsthat ghost had shown him came upon his
mind. He softened more and more, and thought that if he could have
listened to it often years ago,he might have cultivated the kindness of life
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for his own happiness with his ownhands, without resorting to the sexton spade
that buried Jacob Marley. But theydidn't devote the whole evening to music.
After a while they played at forfeits. For it is good to be children
sometimes, and never better than atChristmas, when It's Mighty found her was
a child himself. Stop. Therewas first a game at blind Man's Bluff,
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of course there was, And Ino more believe Tarper was really blind
than I believe he had eyes inhis boots. My opinion is that it
was a done thing between him andScrooge's nephew, and that the ghost of
Christmas present knew it. The wayhe went after that plump sister and the
lace tucker was an outrage on thecredulity of human nature, knocking down the
fire irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself
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among the curtains. Wherever she went, there went he. He always knew
where the plump sister was. Hewouldn't catch anybody else. If you had
fallen up against him, as someof them did on purpose, he would
have made a faint of endeavoring toseize you, which would have been an
affront to your understanding, and wouldinstantly have sidled off in the direction of
the plump sister. She often criedout that it wasn't fair, and it
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really was not. But when atlast he caught her, when in spite
of all her silken wrestlings and herrapid flutterings past him, he got her
in to a corner, whence therewas no escape, then his conduct was
the most execrable. For his pretendingnot to know her, his pretending that
it was necessary to touch her headdress, and further to assure himself of
her identity by pressing a certain ringupon her finger and a certain chain about
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her neck, was vile, monstrous, no doubt, she told him her
opinion of it. When another blindman being in office, they were so
very confidential together behind the curtains.Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind
men's buff party, but was madecomfortable with a large chair and a footstool
in a snug corner, where theGhost and Scrooge were close behind her.
But she joined in the forfeits andloved her love to admiration with all the
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letters of the alphabet. Likewise,at the game of how, when and
where, she was very great,and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew,
beat her sister's hollow. Though theywere sharp girls too, As Topper
could have told you, there mighthave been twenty people there, young and
old, but they all played,and so did Scrooge for wholly forgetting in
the interest he had in what wasgoing on, that his voice made no
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sound in their ears. He sometimescame out with his guests quite loud,
and very often guessed quite right too. For the sharpest needle the best whitechapel
warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge blunt,
as he took it in his headto be. The Ghost was greatly pleased
to find him in this mood,and looked upon him with such favor that
he begged like a boy to beallowed to stay until the guests departed.
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But this, the spirit said,could not be done. Here is a
new game, said Scrooge. Onehalf hour spirit only one. It was
a game called yes and no,where Scrooge's nephew had to think of something
and the rest must find out whathe only answering to their questions yes or
no, as the case was,the brisk fire of questioning to which he
was exposed elicited from him that hewas thinking of an animal, a live
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animal, a rather disagreeable animal,a savage animal, an animal that growled
and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked
about the streets, and wasn't madea shell of and wasn't led by anybody,
and didn't live in a menagerie,and was never killed in the market.
Was not a horse or an ass, or a cow or bull,
or a tiger or dog, ora pig or a cat or bear.
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At every fresh question that was putto him, this nephew burst into a
fresh roar of laughter, and wasso inexpressibly tickled that he was obliged to
get off the sofa and stamp.At last, the plump sister, falling
into a similar state, cried out, I've found it out. I know
what it is, Fred, Iknow what it is. What is it?
Cried Fred? It's your uncle Scrooge, which it certainly was. Admiration
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was the universal sentiment, though somehad objected that the reply is it a
bear ought to have been yes,inasmuch as an answer and the negative was
sufficient to have diverted their thoughts frommister Scrooge, supposing that they ever had
any tendency that way. He hasgiven us plenty of merryment, I'm sure,
said Fred, And it would beungrateful not to drink his health.
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Here's a glass of mulled wine readyto our hand at the moment, and
I say, Uncle Scrooge, Well, Uncle scrit Rooge. They cried,
a merry Christmas and a happy NewYear to the old man, whatever he
is, said Scrooge's nephew. Hewouldn't take it from me, but he
may have it none the less,Uncle Scrooge. Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become
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so gay and light of heart thathe would have pledged the unconscious company in
return, and thanked them in aninaudible speech if the ghost had given him
time. But the whole scene passedoff in the breath of the last words
spoken by his nephew, And heand the Spirit were again upon their travels.
Much they saw, and far theywent, and many homes they visited,
but always with a happy end.The Spirit stood beside sick beds,
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and they were cheerful on foreign lands, and they were close at home by
struggling men, and they were patientin their greater hope by poverty. And
it was rich in almshouse, hospital, and jail, in miseries, every
refuge where vain man and his littlebrief authority had not made fast the door
and barred the Spirit out. Heleft his blessing and taught Scrooge his precepts.
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It was a long night if itwere only a night, But Scrooge
had his doubts of this, becausethe Christmas holidays appeared to be condensed into
the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that
while Scriege remained unaltered in his outwardform, the Ghost grew older, clearly
older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it until they
left a children's twelfth Night party.When looking at the Spirit as they stood
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together in an open place, henoticed that its hair was gray. Are
spirits lives so short? Asked Scrooge. My life upon this globe is very
brief, replied the ghost. Itends to night to night, cried Scrooge,
to night at midnight. Hark,the time is drawing near. The
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chimes were ringing the three quarters pasteleven at that moment. Forgive me if
I am not justified in what Iask, said Scrooge, looking intently at
the spirit's robe. But I seesomething strange and not belonging to yourself protruding
from your skirts. Is it afoot or claw? It might be a
claw? For flesh there is uponit was the spirit's sorrowful reply. Look
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here, from the foldings of itsrobe, it brought two children, wretched,
abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet
and clung upon the outside of itsgarment. Oh man, look here,
look look down here, exclaimed theghost. They were a boy and girl,
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yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, wolfish, but prostrate too in
their humility, where graceful youth shouldhave filled their features out and touched them
with its freshest tints. A staleand shriveled hand like that of age had
pinched and twisted them, and pulledthem into shreds where angels might have sat
enthroned, devils lurked and glared out, menacing no change, no degradation,
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no perversion of humanity in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation.
As monsters, how so horrible anddread Scrooge started back, appalled having
them shown to him in this way. He tried to say that they were
fine children, but the words chokedthemselves. Rather than be parties to a
lie of such enormous magnitude, spirit, are they yours? Scrooge could say
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no more. They are man's,said Spirit looking down upon them, and
they cling to me, appealing fromtheir fathers. This boy is ignorance,
this girl is wont beware them bothin all of their degree, But most
of all, beware this boy,for on his brow I see what written,
which is doom unless the writing beerased. Deny it, cried the
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spirit, stretching out his hands towardsthe city, slander those who tell it.
Ye, admit it for your facetiouspurposes, and make it worse,
and bide the end. Have theyno refuge or resource cried Scrooge. Are
there no prisons? Said the spirit, turning on him for the last time
with his own words. Are thereno workhouses? The bell struck twelve.
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Scrooge looked about him for the ghost, and saw it not. As the
last stroke ceased to vibrate, heremembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley,
and lifted up his eyes beheld asolemn phantom, draped and hooded, coming
like a mist along the ground towardshim. End of Stave three, read
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by Kristen mc quillan, Tokyo,Japan, December seventh, two thousand five.
This is a LibriVox recording. AllLibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer,visit LibriVox dot org. A Christmas Carol
by Charles Dickens Stave three, thesecond of the three spirits. Awaking in
the middle of a prodigiously tough snoreand sitting up in bed to get his
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thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasionto be told that the bell was again
upon the stroke of one. Hefelt that he was restored to consciousness in
the right nick of time for theespecial purpose of holding a conference with the
second messenger despatched to him through JacobMarley's intervention. But finding that he turned
uncomfortably cold when he began to wonderwhich of his curtains this new specter would
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draw back, he put them everyone aside with his own hands, and,
lying down again, established a sharplook out all around the bed,
for he wished to challenge the Spiriton the moment of its appearance, and
did not wish to be taken bysurprise and made nervous gentlemen of the free
and easy sort, who plumed themselveson being acquainted with a move or two,
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and being usually equal to the timeof day, expressed their wide range
of their capacity for adventure by observingthat they are good for anything from pitch
and toss to manslaughter, between whichopposite extremes no doubt there lies a tolerably
wide and comprehensive range of subjects.Without venturing. For Scrooge quite as heartily
as this, I don't mind callingon you to believe that he was ready
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for a good broad field of strangeappearances, and that nothing between a baby
and a rhinoceros would have astonished himvery much. Now, being prepared for
almost anything, he was not,by any means prepared for nothing. And
consequently, when the bell struck oneand no shape appeared, he was taken
with a violent fit of trembling.Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter
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of an hour went by, yetnothing came. All this time he lay
upon his bed the very core andcenter of a blaze of reddy light,
which streamed upon it when the clockproclaimed the hour, and which, being
only left light, was more alarmingthan a dozen ghosts, as he was
powerless to make out what it meantor would be at, and was sometimes
apprehensive that he might be at thatvery moment, an interesting case of spontaneous
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combustion, without having the consolation ofknowing it. At last, however,
he began to think as you orI would have thought at first, For
it's always the person not in thepredicament who knows what ought to have been
done in it, and would unquestionablyhave done it too. At last,
I say, he began to thinkthat the source and secret of this ghostly
light might be in the adjoining room. From whence on further tracing it,
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it seemed to shine. This idea. Taking full possession of his mind,
he got up softly and shuffled inhis slippers to the door. The moment
Scrooge's hand was on the lock,a strange voice called him by his name
and bade him enter. He obeyed. It was his own room, there
was no doubt about that, Butit had undergone a surprising transformation. The
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walls and ceiling were so hung withliving green that it looked like a perfect
grove, from every part of whichbright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves
of holly, mistletoe and ivy reflectedback the light, as if so many
little mirrors had been scattered there,and such a mighty blaze went roaring up
the chimney, as that dull petrificationof a hearth had never known in Scrooge's
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time, or Marley's, or formany and many a winter season gone.
Heaped up upon the floor to forma kind of throne were turkeys, geese,
game, poultry, brown, greatjoints of meat, sucking pigs,
long breaths of sausages, mince pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters,
red hot chestnuts, cherry cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense
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twelfth cakes, and seething bowls ofpunch that made the chamber dim with their
delicious steam. In easy state,upon this couch there sat a jolly giant,
glorious to see, who bore aglowing torch in shape not unlike Plenty's
horn, and held it up highup to shed its light on Screoge as
he came peeping around the door.Come in, exclaimed the ghost, Come
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in and know me better. Man. Scrooge entered timidly and hung his head
before this spirit. He was notthe dogged Scrooge he had been, And
though the spirit's eyes were clear andkind. He did not like to meet
them. I am the ghost ofChristmas present, said the spirit. Look
upon me. Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple green
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robe or mantle, warded with whitefur. This garment hung so loosely on
the figure that its capacious breast wasbare, as if disdaining to be warded
or concealed by any artifice. Itsfeet, observable beneath the ample folds of
the garment, were also bare,and on its head it wore no other
covering than a holly wreath, sethere and there with shining icicles. Its
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dark brown curls were long and free, free as its genial face, its
sparkling eye, its opening hand,its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor,
and its joyful air. Girded roundits middle was an antique scabbard, but
no sword was in it, andthe ancient sheath was eaten up with rest.
You have never seen the like ofme before, exclaimed the spirit.
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Never Scrooge made to answer. Ithave never walked forth with the young members
of my family, meaning, forI'm very young. My elder brother is
born in these later years pursued thephantom. I don't think I have,
said Scrooge. I'm afraid I havenot. Have you many brothers, spirit,
more than eighteen hundred, said theghost, a tremendous family to provide
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for muttered Scrooge. The ghost ofChristmas present rose Spirit, said Scrooge submissively,
Conduct me where you will. Iwent forth last night on compulsion,
and I learned a lesson which isworking now tonight. If you have ought
to teach me, let me profitby it. Touch my robe. Scrooge
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did as he was told and heldit fast. Holly, mistletoe, red
berries, ivy, turkey's geese came, poultry, brawn, meat, pig
sausages, oysters, pies, pudding, spruit, and punch. All vanished
instantly, so did the room,the fire, the ruddy glow, the
hour of night. And they stoodin the city streets on Christmas morning,
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where for the weather was severe.The people made a rough, but brisk
and not unpleasant kind of music inscraping the snow from the pavement in front
of their dwellings and from the topsof their houses. Whence it was mad
delight to the boys to see itcome plumping down into the road below,
and splitting into artificial little snow storms. The house fronts looked black enough,
and the windows blacker, contrasting withthe smooth white sheet of snow upon the
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roofs, and with the dirtier snowupon the ground, which last deposit had
been plowed up in deep froze bythe heavy wheels of carts and wagons,
furrows that crossed and recrossed each otherhundreds of times, where the great streets
branched off and made intricate channels hardto trace in the thick yellow mud and
icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up
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with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended
in a shower of sooty atoms,as if all the chimneys in Great Britain
had, by one consent caught fireand were blazing away to their dear heart's
content. There was nothing very cheerfulin the climate or the town, and
yet there was an air of cheerfulnessabroad that the clearest summer air and brightest
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summer sun might have endeavored to diffusein vain for the people who were shoveling
away on the housetops, were jovialand full of glee, calling out to
one another from the parapets, andnow and then exchanging a facetious snowball,
better natured missile, far than manya wordy jest, laughing heartily if it
went right, and not less heartilyif it went wrong. The poulterer's shops
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were still half open, and thefruiterers were radiant in their glory. There
were great, round, pot belliedbaskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats
of jolly old gentlemen, lolling atthe doors and tumbling out into the street
in their apoplectic opulence. They wereruddy, brown faced, broad girthed Spanish
onions, shining in the fatness oftheir growth like Spanish friars, and winking
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from their shelves in wanton slyness ofthe girls as they went by and glanced
demurely at the hung up mistletoe.There were pairs and apples clustered high and
blimming pyramids. There were bunches ofgrapes, made in the shopkeeper's benevolence to
dangle from conspicuous hooks that people's mouthsmight water gratis. As they passed.
There were piles of filberts, mossyand brown, recalling in their fragrance ancient
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walks among the woods, and pleasantshufflings ankle deep through withered leaves. There
were Norfolk biffins, squat and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges
and lemons, and in the greatcompactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating
and beseeching to be carried home inpaper bags and eaten after dinner. The
very gold and silver fish set forthamong these choice fruits in a bowl,
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though members of a dull and stagnantblooded race appeared to know that there was
something going on, and two offish went gasping round and round in their
little world in slow and passionless excitement. The grocers, oh, the grocers
nearly closed with perhaps two shutters downor one. But through those gap such
glimpses, and it was not alonethat the scales descending on the counter made
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a merry sound, or that thetwine and roller parted company so briskly,
or that the canisters were rattled upand down like juggling tricks, or even
that the blended scents of teas andcoffee were so grateful to the nose,
or even that the raisins so plentifuland rare, the almonds so extremely white,
the sticks of cinnamon so long andstraight, the other spices so delicious,
the candied fruits so caked and spottedwith molten sugar as to make the
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coldest lookers on feel faint and subsequentlybioless. Nor was it that the figs
were moist and pulpy, or thatthe French plums blushed in modest tartness from
their highly decorated boxes, or thateverything was good to eat and in its
Christmas dress. But the customers wereall so hurried and so eager in the
hopeful promise of the day, thatthey tumbled up against each other at the
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door, crashing their whisker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter,
and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like
mistakes and the best humor possible.While the grocer and his people were so
frank and fresh that the polished heartswith which they fastened their aprons behind might
have been their own, worn outsidefor general inspection and for Christmas DAWs to
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peck at if they chose. Butsoon the steeples called good people all to
church and chapel, and away theycame, flocking through the streets in their
best clothes and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged
from scores of by streets, lanesand nameless turnings, innumerable people carrying their
dinners to the baker's shops. Thesight of these poor revelers appeared to interest
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the Spirit very much, for hestood with Scrooge beside him in a baker's
doorway, and, taking off thecovers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense
on their dinners from his torch.And it was a very uncommon kind of
torch. For once or twice,when there were angry words between some dinner
carriers who jostled each other, heshed a few drops of water on them
from it, and the good humorwas restored directly, For they said it
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was a shame to quarrel upon ChristmasDay, and so it was God love
it. So it was in timethe bells ceased, and the bakers were
shut up. And yet there wasa genial shadowing forth of all these dinners
in the progress of their cooking inthe thawed blotch of wet above each baker's
oven, where the pavement smoked asif its stones were cooking too. Is
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there a peculiar flavor in what yousprinkle from your torch, asked Scrooge.
There is my own. Would itapply to any kind of dinner on this
day, asked Scrooge, to anykindly given to a poor one most?
Why do a poor one most,asked Scrooge, because it needs it most,
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spirit, said Scrooge, after amoment's thought. I wonder you,
of all the bias in the manyworlds about us, should desire to cramp
these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment,I cried the Spirit. You would deprive
them of their means of Every seventhday, often the only dawn which they
can be said to dine at all, said Scrooge. Wouldn't you, I
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cried the Spirit. You seek toclose these places on the seventh day,
said Scrooge. And it comes tothe same thing. I seek forgive me
if I'm wrong. It has beendone in your name, or at least
in that of your family, saidScrooge. There are some upon this earth
of yours returned the Spirit who layclaim to know us, and who do
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their deeds of passion, pride,ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry,
and selfishness in our name, whoare as strange to us and all
our kith and kin as if they'dnever lived, Remember that, and charge
their doings on themselves, not us. Scrooge promised that he would, and
they went on, invisible as theyhad been before, into the suburbs of
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the town. It was a remarkablequality of the Ghost which Scrooge had observed
at the Baker's, that notwithstanding hisgigantic size, he could accommodate himself to
any place with ease, and thathe stood beneath a low roof quite as
gracefully and like a supernatural creature asit was possible he could have done in
any lofty hall. And perhaps itwas the pleasure the Good Spirit had in
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showing off this power of his,or else it was his own kind,
generous, hearty nature, and hissympathy with all poor men that led him
straight to Scrooge's clerks, For therehe went and took Scrooge with him,
holding to his robe, and onthe threshold of the door, the spirit
smiled and stopped to bless Bob Cratchett'sdwelling with the sprinkling of his torch.
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Think of that Bob had but fifteenbob a week himself he pocketed on Saturdays,
but fifteen copies of his Christian name, And yet the ghost of Christmas
present blessed his four roomed house.Then up rose Missus Cratchett, Cratchett's wife,
dressed out but poorly in a twiceturned gown, but brave in ribbons,
which are cheap and make a goodlyshow for sixpence, and she laid
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the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchett, second of her daughters, also brave
and ribbons, while Master Peter Cratchettplunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes,
and getting the corners of his monstrousshirt collar Bob's private property conferred upon
his son and heir in honor ofthe day, into his mouth, rejoiced
to find himself so gallantly attired,and yearned to show his linen in the
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fashionable parks. And now two smallerCratchetts, boy and girl, came tearing
in, screaming that outside the Baker'sthey had smelt the goose and had known
it for their own, and baskingin luxurious thoughts of sage and onion,
these young Cratchets danced about the tableand exalted Master Peter Cratchett to the skies,
while he not proud, although hiscollars nearly choked him, blew the
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fire until the slow potatoes bubbling upknocked loudly at the saucepan lid to be
let out and peeled. What hasever got your precious father, then,
said Missus Cratchett, and your poorthertiny tim and Martha warned his late last
Christmas day by half an hour.Here's Martha, mother, said a girl
appearing as she spoke. Here's Martha, mother, cried the two young Cratchets.
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Hooray, there's such a goose,Martha. Why bless my heart alive?
Dear, how late you are,said missus Cratchit, kissing her a
dozen times and taking off her shawland bonnet for her with the ficious deal.
We'd a deal of work to finishup last night, replied the girl,
and I had to clear away thismorning. Mother. Well, never
mind, so long as you're come, said missus CRATCHITTT Sit ye down before
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the fire, my dear, andhave a warm lord. Bless ye.
No, no, there's father coming, cried the two young Cratchets, who
were everywhere at once. Hide Martha, Hide. So Martha hid herself,
and in came little Bob the Father, with at least three feet of comfort,
or exclusive of the fringe hanging downbefore him, and his threadbare clothes,
darned up and brushed to look seasonable, and tiny Tim upon his shoulder.
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Alas for tiny Tim, he borea little crutch and had his limbs
supported by an iron frame. Whywhere's are Martha, cried Bob Cratchitt,
looking round. Not coming, saidmissus Cratchittt. Not coming, said Bob,
with a sudden declension in his highspirits, for he had been Tim's
blood horse all the way from churchand had come home rampant. Not coming
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upon Christmas Day. Martha didn't liketo see him disappointed, if it were
only in joke, so she cameout prematurely from behind the closet door and
ran into his arms, while thetwo young Cratchets hustled Tiny Tim and bore
him off to the wash house thathe might hear the pudding singing in the
copper. And how did little Timbehave, asked missus Cratchett when she'd rallied
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Bob on his credulity, and Bobhad hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
As good as gold, said Bob, and better. Somehow he gets
thoughtful sitting by himself so much,and he thinks the strangest things you've ever
heard, he told me coming home. Then he hoped the people saw him
in the church, because he wasa cripple, and it might be pleasant
to them to remember upon Christmas Daywho made lam beggars walk and blind men
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see. Bob's voice was tremulous whenhe told them this, and he trembled
some more when he said that tinyTim was growing strong and hearty. His
active little crutch was heard upon thefloor, and back came tiny Tim before
another word was spoken, escorted byhis brother and sister to his stool before
the fire, And while Bob,turning up his cuffs, as if poor
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fellow they were capable of being mademore shabby, compounded some hot mixture in
a jug with gin and lemons,and stirred it round and round, and
put it on the hob to simmermaster Peter and the two ubiquitous young crotchets
went to fetch the goose, withwhich they soon returned in high procession.
Such a bustle ensued that you mighthave thought a goose the rarest of all
birds, a feathered phenomenon, towhich a black swan was a matter of
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course, And in truth it wassomething very like it. In that house,
Missus Cratchett made the gravy ready beforehandin a little saucepan, hissing hot,
Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incrediblevigor. Miss Belinda sweetened up the
apple sauce. Martha dusted the hotplates. Bob took tiny tin beside him
in a tiny corner at the table, the two young cracks set chairs for
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everybody, not forgetting themselves, andmounting guard upon their posts, cram spoons
into their mouths lest they should shriekfor goose before their turn came to be
helped. At last, the disheswere set on, and grace was said.
It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Missus Cratchett, looking slowly
all along the carving knife, preparedto plunge it in the breast. But
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when she did, and when thelong expected gush of stuffing issued forth,
one murmur of delight arose all aroundthe board. An even tiny tim,
excited by the two young Cratchets,beat on the table with the handle of
his knife and feebly cried, Hurrah, there was never such a goose.
Bob said he didn't believe there wasever such a goose. Cooked, its
tenderness and flavorish size and cheapness werethe themes of universal admiration eked out by
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apple sauce and mashed potatoes. Itwas a sufficient dinner for the whole family.
Indeed, as Missus Cratchett said,with great delight, surveying one small
atom of a bone upon the dish, they hadn't ate it all. At
last, everyone had had enough,and the youngest Cratchets in particular, were
steeped in sage and onion to theeyebrows. But now the plates being changed
by miss Belinda, Missus Cratchett leftthe room alone, too nervous to bear
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witness to take the pudding up andbring it in. Suppose it should not
be done enough, Suppose it shouldbreak in turning out. Suppose somebody should
have got over the wall of thebackyard and stolen it while they were merry
with the goose. The supposition atwhich the two young Cratchets became livid,
all sorts of horrors were supposed.Hello, a great deal of steam,
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the pudding was out of the copper, A smell like a washing day.
That was a cloth, A smelllike an eating house and a pastry cook's
next door to each other, witha laundresses next door to that. That
was the pudding. In half aminute, Missus Cratchett entered, flushed but
smiling proudly, with the pudding likea speckled cannon ball, so hard and
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firm, blazing in half of ahalf a quartern of ignited brandy and bedight
with Christmas hollies stuck into the top. Oh, oh, wonderful pudding.
Bob Cratchett said, and calmly toothat he regarded it as the greatest success
achieved by Missus Cratchett since their marriage. Missus Cratchett said that now the weight
was off her mind, she wouldconfess that she had had her doubts about
the quality of flour. Everybody hadsomething to say about it, but nobody
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said or thought it was at alla small pudding for a large family.
It would have been flat heresy todo so. Any Cratchet would have blushed
to hint at such a thing.At last, the dinner was all done,
the cloth cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up the
compound, and the jug being tastedand considered perfect, apples and oranges were
put upon the table, and ashovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then
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all the Cratchett family drew around thehearth in what Bob Cratchett called a circle,
meaning half a one, and atBob Cratchett's elbow stood the family display
of glass, two tumblers, anda custard cup without a handle. These
held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets
would have done, and Bob servedit out with beaming looks, while the
chestnuts on the fire spun and crackednoisily. Then Bob proposed a Merry Christmas
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to us, all my DearS,God bless us, which the family re
echoed, God bless us, everyone, said Tiny Tim, the last
of all. He sat very closeto his father's side upon his little stool.
Bob held his withered little hand inhis as if he loved the child
and wished to keep him by hisside, and dreaded that he might be
taken from him, Spirit said Scrooge, with an interest he'd never felt before.
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Tell me if tiny tim will live. I see a vacant seat,
replied the ghost, in the poorchimney corner, and a crutch without an
honor carefully preserved. If these shadowsremain unaltered by the future, the child
will die. Oh no, saidScrooge. Oh no, kind spirit say
he will be spared. If theseshadows remain unaltered by the future, none
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other of my race returned, Theghost will find him here. What then,
if he be like to die,he had better do it and decrease
the surplus population. Scrooge hung hishead to hear his own words quoted by
the spirit, and was overcome withpenitence and grief. Man, said the
ghost. If man, you bein heart not adamant forbear that wicked,
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cant until you have discovered what thesurplus is and where it is? Will
you decide what men shall live,what men shall die. It may be
that in the sight of Heaven youare more worthless and less fit to live
than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God, to hear the insect
on the leaf pronouncing on the toomuch life among his hungry brothers in the
dust. Scrooge bent before the ghost'srebuke and trembling, cast his eyes upon
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the ground, but he raised themspeedily on hearing his own name. Mister
Scrooge, said, Bob, Igive you, mister Scrooge, the founder
of the feast, the founder ofthe feast. Indeed, cried Missus Cratchett,
reddening. I wish I had himhere. I'd give him a piece
of my mind to feast upon,and I hope he'd have a good appetite
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for it. My dear, saidBob the children Christmas Day. It should
be Christmas Day, I am sure, she said, on which one drinks
the health of such an odious,stingy, hard, unfeeling man as mister
Scrooge. You know he is Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do,
poor fellow, my dear, wasBob's mild answer. Christmas Day.
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I'll drink to his health for yoursake and the days, said Missus Cratchett.
But not for his long life.To him, Merry Christmas and a
happy New Year. He'll be verymerry and very happy. I have no
doubt. The children drank the toastafter her. It was the first of
their proceedings which had no heartiness.Tiny Tim drank it last of all,
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but he didn't care tuppence for it. Scrooge was the ogre of the family.
The mention of his name cast adark shadow on the party, which
was not dispelled for full five minutesafter it had passed away. They were
ten times merrier than before from themere relief of Scrooge. The baleful being
done with. Bob Cratchett told themhow he had a situation in his eye
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for Master Peter, which would bringin if obtained full five and sixpence weekly.
The two young Cratchets laughed tremendously atthe idea of Peter's being a man
of business, and Peter himself lookedthoughtfully at the fire from between his collars,
as if he were deliberating what particularinvestments he should favor when he came
into the receipt of that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice
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at a milliner's, then told themwhat kind of work she had to do
and how many hours she worked ata stretch, and how she meant to
lie abed tomorrow morning for a goodlong rest, tomorrow being a holiday she
passed at home. Also how shehad seen a countess and a lord some
days before, and how the lordwas much about as tall as Peter,
at which Peter pulled up his collarso high that you couldn't have seen his
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head if you'd been there. Allthis time, the chestnuts and the jug
went round and round, and bya they had a song about a lost
child traveling in the snow, fromTiny Tim, who had a plaintive little
voice, and sang it very well. Indeed, there was nothing of high
mark in this. They were nota handsome family. They were not well
dressed, their shoes were far frombeing waterproof, their clothes were scanty,
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and Peter might have known, andvery likely did the inside of the pawnbroker's.
But they were happy, grateful,pleased with one another, and contented
with the time. And when theyfaded they looked happier yet in the bright
sprinklings of the spirit's torch. Atparting, Scrooge had his eye upon them,
and especially on Tiny Tim, untilthe last. By this time it
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was getting dark and snowing pretty heavily, And as Scrooge and the Spirit went
along the streets, the brightness ofthe roaring fires in the kitchens, parlors,
and all sorts of rooms was wonderful. Here the flickering of the blaze
showed preparations for a cozy dinner,with hot plates baking through and through before
the fire, and deep red curtainsready to be drawn to shut out cold
and darkness. There all the childrenof the house were running out into the
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snow to meet their married sisters,brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts,
and to be the first to greetthem. Here again were shadows on the
window blind of guests assembling, andthere was a group of handsome girls,
all hooded and fur booted, andall chattering at once tripped lightly off to
some near neighbor's house, where woeupon the single men who saw them enter.
Artful witches. Well, they knewit in a glow. But if
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you had judged from the numbers ofpeople on their way to friendly gatherings,
you might have thought that no onewas at home to give them welcome when
they got there. Instead of everyhouse expecting company and piling up its fires,
half chimney high blessings on it,and how the ghost exulted, how
it bared its breadth of breast andopened its capacious palm, and floated on
outpouring with a generous hand its brightand harmless mirth on everything within its reach.
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The very lamp lighter, who ranon before, dotting the dusky street
with specks of light, and whowas dressed to spend the evening somewhere,
laughed out loudly as the spirit passed. The little kenned the lamp lighter than
he any company but Christmas. Andnow, without a word of warning from
the ghost, they stood upon ableak and desert moor, where monstrous masses
of rude stone were cast about asthough it were the burial place of giants,
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and water spread itself wherever so itlisted, or would have done so,
but for the frost that held itprisoner, and nothing grew but moss
and furs and coarse rank grass.Down in the west, the setting sun
had left a streak of fiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an
instant like a sullen eye, andfrowning lower lower lower, Yet was lost
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in the thick gloom of darkest night. What place is this, asked Scrooge.
A place where miners live, wholabor in the bowels of the earth,
returned the Spirit, But they knowme. See A light shone from
the window of a hut, andswiftly they advanced toward it. Passing through
the wall of mud and stone,they found a cheerful company assembled round a
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glowing fire, an old old manin wane, with their children and their
children's children, and another generation beyondthat, all decked out gaily in their
holiday attire. The old man,in a voice that seldom rose above a
howling of the wind upon the barrenwaste, was singing them a Christmas song.
It had been a very old songwhen he was a boy, and
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from time to time they all joinedin the chorus. So surely as they
raised their voices, the old mangot quite blithe and loud, and so
surely as they stopped, his vigorsank again. The Spirit did not tarry
here, but bade Scrooge hold hisrobe, and, passing on above the
moor, sped whither not to seeto see to Scrooge his horror. Looking
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back, he saw the last ofthe land, a frightful range of rocks
behind them, and his ears weredeafened by the thundering of water as it
rolled and roared and raged among thedreadful caverns it had worn and fiercely tried
to undermine the earth. Built upona dismal reef of sunken rocks, some
league or so from shore, onwhich the waters chafed and dashed the wild
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earth thread, there stood a solitarylighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to
its base, and storm birds,born of the wind, one might suppose,
as seaweed of the water rose andfell about it like the waves they
skimmed. But even here two menwho watched the light had made a fire
that, through the loophole in thethick stone wall, shed out a ray
of brightness on the awful sea.Joining their horny hands over the rough table
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at which they sat, they wishedeach other Merry Christmas in their can of
grog. And one of them,the elder, too, with his face
all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figurehead of an old ship,
might be, struck up a sturdysong that was like a gale in
itself. Again, the ghosts spedon above the black and heaving sea on
(29:44):
on until being far away, ashe told Scrooge, from any shore they
lighted on a ship, they stoodbeside, the helmsman at the wheel,
the lookout in the bow, theofficers who had the watch, dark ghostly
figures in their several stations, Butevery man among them hummed a Christmas tune,
a Christmas thought, or spoke belowhis breath to his companion of some
by gone Christmas Day, with homewardhopes belonging to it. And every man
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on board, waking or sleeping,good or bad, had either a kinder
word for another on that day thanon any day in the year, and
had shared to some extent in itsfestivities, and had remembered those he cared
for at a distance, and hadknown that they delighted to remember him.
It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the
wind, and thinking what a solemnthing it was to move through the lonely
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darkness over an unknown abyss whose deathswere secrets as profound as death. It
was a great surprise to Scrooge whilethus engaged to hear a hearty laugh.
It was a much greater surprise toScrooge to recognize it as his own nephews,
and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room with the
Spirit standing smiling by his side,and looking at that same nephew with approving
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affability. Ha ha ha ha haha ha ha, laughed Scrooge's nephew.
If you should happen, by anyunlikely chance to know a man more blessed
in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew,all I can say is I should like
to know him too. Introduce himto me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance.
It's a fair, even handed,noble adjustment of things that while there
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is infection and disease and sorrow,there is nothing in the world so irresistibly
contagious as laughter and good humor.When Scrooge's nephew laughed in this way,
holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most
extravagant contortions, Scrooge's niece by marriagelaughed as heartily as he, and their
assembled friends, being not a bitbehindhand, whirred out lustily. He said
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that Christmas was a humbug as Ilive, cried Scrooge's nephew. He believed
it too. More shame for him, Fred said Scrooge's niece indignantly. Bless
those women. They never do anythingby halves. They are always in earnest.
She was very pretty, exceedingly pretty, with a dimpled, surprised looking
capital face, little mouth that seemedmade to be kissed as no doubt,
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it was all kinds of good littledots about her chin that melted into one
another when she laughed, and thesunniest pair of eyes that you ever saw
in any little creature's head. Together, she was what you would have called
provoking, you know, but satisfactorytoo, Oh, perfectly satisfactory. He's
a comical old fellow, said Scrooge'snephew, that's the truth, and not
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so unpleasant as he might be.However, his offenses carry their own punishment,
and I have nothing to say againsthim. I'm sure he is very
rich, Fred hinted Scrooge's niece.At least you always tell me so.
What of that, my dear,said Scrooge's nephew. His wealth is of
no use to him. He doesn'tdo any good with it, He doesn't
(32:43):
make himself comfortable with it. Hehasn't the satisfaction of thinking, ha that
he's ever gonna benefit us with it. I have no patience with him,
observed Scrooge's niece. Scrooge's nieces,sisters, and all the other ladies expressed
the same opinion. Oh, Ihave since Scrooge's nephew. I'm sorry for
him. I couldn't be angry withhim if I tried. Who suffers by
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his ill whims himself always here.He takes it into his head to dislike
us, and he won't come anddine with us. What's the consequence.
He don't lose much of a dinner. Indeed, I think he loses a
very good dinner, interrupted Scrooge's niece. Everybody else said the same. And
they must be allowed to have beencompetent judges, because they had just had
dinner, and with the dessert uponthe table, were clustered around the fire
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by lamplight. Well, I'm veryglad to hear it, said Scrooge's nephew,
because I haven't got great faith inthese young housekeepers. What do you
say topper? Topper had clearly gothis eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's sisters,
for he answered that a bachelor wasa wretched outcast who had no right
to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's sister, the plump
one with the lace tucker, notthe one with the roses blushed. Do
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go on, fred, said Scrooge'sniece, clapping her hands. He never
finishes what he begins to say.He's such a ridiculous fellow, Scrooge's nephew
reveled in another laugh. And asit was impossible to keep the infection off,
though the plump sister tried hard todo it with aromatic vinegar, his
example was unanimously followed. I wasonly going to say, said Scrooge's nephew,
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that the consequence of his taking adislike to us and not making merry
with us is as I think thathe loses some pleasant moments which could do
him no harm. I am surehe loses pleasanter companions than he can find
in his own thoughts, either inhis moldy old office or his dusty chambers.
I mean to give him the samechance every year, whether he likes
it or not, for I pityhim. He may rail at Christmas till
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he dies but he can't help thinkingbetter of it. I defy him if
he finds me going there in goodtemper year after year and saying, Uncle
Scrooge, how are you if itonly puts him in the vein to leave
his poor clerk fifty pounds that something, And I think I shook him yesterday.
It was their turned to laugh nowat the notion of his shaking Scrooge.
But being thoroughly good natured and notmuch carrying what they laughed at,
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so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment and
passed the bottle joyously. After tea, they had some music, for they
were a musical family, and knewwhat they were about when they sung a
glear catch. I can assure you, especially Topper, who could growl away
in the base like a good one, and never swell the large veins in
his forehead or get rid in theface over it. Scrooge's niece played well
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upon the harp, and played,among other tunes, a simple little air,
a mere nothing. You might learnto whistle it in two minutes,
which had been familiar to the childwho fetched Scrooge from the boarding school,
as he had been reminded by theghost of Christmas past. When the strain
of music sounded, all the thingsthat ghost had shown him came upon his
mind. He softened more and more, and thought that if he could have
listened to it often years ago,he might have cultivated the kindness of life
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for his own happiness with his ownhands, without resorting to the sexton spade
that buried Jacob Marley. But theydidn't devote the whole evening to music.
After a while they played at forfeits. For it is good to be children
sometimes, and never better than atChristmas, when It's Mighty found her was
a child himself. Stop. Therewas first a game at blind Man's Bluff,
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of course there was, And Ino more believe Tarper was really blind
than I believe he had eyes inhis boots. My opinion is that it
was a done thing between him andScrooge's nephew, and that the ghost of
Christmas present knew it. The wayhe went after that plump sister and the
lace tucker was an outrage on thecredulity of human nature, knocking down the
fire irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself
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among the curtains. Wherever she went, there went he. He always knew
where the plump sister was. Hewouldn't catch anybody else. If you had
fallen up against him, as someof them did on purpose, he would
have made a faint of endeavoring toseize you, which would have been an
affront to your understanding, and wouldinstantly have sidled off in the direction of
the plump sister. She often criedout that it wasn't fair, and it
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really was not. But when atlast he caught her, when in spite
of all her silken wrestlings and herrapid flutterings past him, he got her
in to a corner, whence therewas no escape, then his conduct was
the most execrable. For his pretendingnot to know her, his pretending that
it was necessary to touch her headdress, and further to assure himself of
her identity by pressing a certain ringupon her finger and a certain chain about
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her neck, was vile, monstrous, no doubt, she told him her
opinion of it. When another blindman being in office, they were so
very confidential together behind the curtains.Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind
men's buff party, but was madecomfortable with a large chair and a footstool
in a snug corner, where theGhost and Scrooge were close behind her.
But she joined in the forfeits andloved her love to admiration with all the
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letters of the alphabet. Likewise,at the game of how, when and
where, she was very great,and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew,
beat her sister's hollow. Though theywere sharp girls too, As Topper
could have told you, there mighthave been twenty people there, young and
old, but they all played,and so did Scrooge for wholly forgetting in
the interest he had in what wasgoing on, that his voice made no
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sound in their ears. He sometimescame out with his guests quite loud,
and very often guessed quite right too. For the sharpest needle the best whitechapel
warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge blunt,
as he took it in his headto be. The Ghost was greatly pleased
to find him in this mood,and looked upon him with such favor that
he begged like a boy to beallowed to stay until the guests departed.
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But this, the spirit said,could not be done. Here is a
new game, said Scrooge. Onehalf hour spirit only one. It was
a game called yes and no,where Scrooge's nephew had to think of something
and the rest must find out whathe only answering to their questions yes or
no, as the case was,the brisk fire of questioning to which he
was exposed elicited from him that hewas thinking of an animal, a live
(38:45):
animal, a rather disagreeable animal,a savage animal, an animal that growled
and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked
about the streets, and wasn't madea shell of and wasn't led by anybody,
and didn't live in a menagerie,and was never killed in the market.
Was not a horse or an ass, or a cow or bull,
or a tiger or dog, ora pig or a cat or bear.
(39:07):
At every fresh question that was putto him, this nephew burst into a
fresh roar of laughter, and wasso inexpressibly tickled that he was obliged to
get off the sofa and stamp.At last, the plump sister, falling
into a similar state, cried out, I've found it out. I know
what it is, Fred, Iknow what it is. What is it?
Cried Fred? It's your uncle Scrooge, which it certainly was. Admiration
(39:32):
was the universal sentiment, though somehad objected that the reply is it a
bear ought to have been yes,inasmuch as an answer and the negative was
sufficient to have diverted their thoughts frommister Scrooge, supposing that they ever had
any tendency that way. He hasgiven us plenty of merryment, I'm sure,
said Fred, And it would beungrateful not to drink his health.
(39:52):
Here's a glass of mulled wine readyto our hand at the moment, and
I say, Uncle Scrooge, Well, Uncle scrit Rooge. They cried,
a merry Christmas and a happy NewYear to the old man, whatever he
is, said Scrooge's nephew. Hewouldn't take it from me, but he
may have it none the less,Uncle Scrooge. Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become
(40:14):
so gay and light of heart thathe would have pledged the unconscious company in
return, and thanked them in aninaudible speech if the ghost had given him
time. But the whole scene passedoff in the breath of the last words
spoken by his nephew, And heand the Spirit were again upon their travels.
Much they saw, and far theywent, and many homes they visited,
but always with a happy end.The Spirit stood beside sick beds,
(40:37):
and they were cheerful on foreign lands, and they were close at home by
struggling men, and they were patientin their greater hope by poverty. And
it was rich in almshouse, hospital, and jail, in miseries, every
refuge where vain man and his littlebrief authority had not made fast the door
and barred the Spirit out. Heleft his blessing and taught Scrooge his precepts.
(41:00):
It was a long night if itwere only a night, But Scrooge
had his doubts of this, becausethe Christmas holidays appeared to be condensed into
the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that
while Scriege remained unaltered in his outwardform, the Ghost grew older, clearly
older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it until they
left a children's twelfth Night party.When looking at the Spirit as they stood
(41:22):
together in an open place, henoticed that its hair was gray. Are
spirits lives so short? Asked Scrooge. My life upon this globe is very
brief, replied the ghost. Itends to night to night, cried Scrooge,
to night at midnight. Hark,the time is drawing near. The
(41:45):
chimes were ringing the three quarters pasteleven at that moment. Forgive me if
I am not justified in what Iask, said Scrooge, looking intently at
the spirit's robe. But I seesomething strange and not belonging to yourself protruding
from your skirts. Is it afoot or claw? It might be a
claw? For flesh there is uponit was the spirit's sorrowful reply. Look
(42:08):
here, from the foldings of itsrobe, it brought two children, wretched,
abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet
and clung upon the outside of itsgarment. Oh man, look here,
look look down here, exclaimed theghost. They were a boy and girl,
(42:29):
yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, wolfish, but prostrate too in
their humility, where graceful youth shouldhave filled their features out and touched them
with its freshest tints. A staleand shriveled hand like that of age had
pinched and twisted them, and pulledthem into shreds where angels might have sat
enthroned, devils lurked and glared out, menacing no change, no degradation,
(42:53):
no perversion of humanity in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation.
As monsters, how so horrible anddread Scrooge started back, appalled having
them shown to him in this way. He tried to say that they were
fine children, but the words chokedthemselves. Rather than be parties to a
lie of such enormous magnitude, spirit, are they yours? Scrooge could say
(43:16):
no more. They are man's,said Spirit looking down upon them, and
they cling to me, appealing fromtheir fathers. This boy is ignorance,
this girl is wont beware them bothin all of their degree, But most
of all, beware this boy,for on his brow I see what written,
which is doom unless the writing beerased. Deny it, cried the
(43:40):
spirit, stretching out his hands towardsthe city, slander those who tell it.
Ye, admit it for your facetiouspurposes, and make it worse,
and bide the end. Have theyno refuge or resource cried Scrooge. Are
there no prisons? Said the spirit, turning on him for the last time
with his own words. Are thereno workhouses? The bell struck twelve.
(44:06):
Scrooge looked about him for the ghost, and saw it not. As the
last stroke ceased to vibrate, heremembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley,
and lifted up his eyes beheld asolemn phantom, draped and hooded, coming
like a mist along the ground towardshim. End of Stave three, read
(44:27):
by Kristen mc quillan, Tokyo,Japan, December seventh, two thousand five.
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