A CHRISTMAS CAROL

IN PROSEBEINGA Ghost Story of Christmas

by Charles Dickens

PREFACE

I HAVE endeavoured in this Ghostly little book, to raise the Ghost of an Idea, which shall not put myreaders out of humour with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their housespleasantly, and no one wish to lay it. 

Their faithful Friend and Servant, C. D. December, 1843. 

CONTENTS

Stave I: Marley's GhostStave II: The First of the Three SpiritsStave III: The Second of the Three SpiritsStave IV: The Last of the SpiritsStave V: The End of It

STAVE I: MARLEY'S GHOST

MARLEY was dead: to begin with. There is no doubtwhatever about that. The register of his burial wassigned by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: andScrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything hechose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as adoor-nail. 

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of myown knowledge, what there is particularly dead abouta door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, toregard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongeryin the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestorsis in the simile; and my unhallowed handsshall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. Youwill therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, thatMarley was as dead as a door-nail. 

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he werepartners for I don't know how many years. Scroogewas his sole executor, his sole administrator, his soleassign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, andsole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfullycut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellentman of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain. 

The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back tothe point I started from. There is no doubt that Marleywas dead. This must be distinctly understood, ornothing wonderful can come of the story I am goingto relate. If we were not perfectly convinced thatHamlet's Father died before the play began, therewould be nothing more remarkable in his taking astroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-agedgentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezyspot--say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind. 

Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehousedoor: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known asScrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to thebusiness called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all thesame to him. 

Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind-stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire;secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. Thecold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointednose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made hiseyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in hisgrating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on hiseyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own lowtemperature always about with him; he iced his office inthe dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas. 

External heat and cold had little influence onScrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weatherchill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, nopelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn'tknow where to have him. The heaviest rain, andsnow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantageover him in only one respect. They often "came down"handsomely, and Scrooge never did. 

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, withgladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you?When will you come to see me?" No beggars imploredhim to bestow a trifle, no children asked himwhat it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in allhis life inquired the way to such and such a place, ofScrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared toknow him; and when they saw him coming on, wouldtug their owners into doorways and up courts; andthen would wag their tails as though they said, "Noeye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"

But what did Scrooge care! It was the very thinghe liked. To edge his way along the crowded pathsof life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge. 

Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in hiscounting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggywithal: and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their handsupon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon thepavement stones to warm them. The city clocks hadonly just gone three, but it was quite dark already--it had not been light all day--and candles were flaringin the windows of the neighbouring offices, likeruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fogcame pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and wasso dense without, that although the court was of thenarrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuringeverything, one might have thought that Naturelived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale. 

The door of Scrooge's counting-house was openthat he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in adismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copyingletters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk'sfire was so very much smaller that it looked like onecoal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge keptthe coal-box in his own room; and so surely as theclerk came in with the shovel, the master predictedthat it would be necessary for them to part. Whereforethe clerk put on his white comforter, and tried towarm himself at the candle; in which effort, not beinga man of a strong imagination, he failed. 

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" crieda cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge'snephew, who came upon him so quickly that this wasthe first intimation he had of his approach. 

"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in thefog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he wasall in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; hiseyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again. 

"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge'snephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure?"

"I do, " said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! Whatright have you to be merry? What reason have youto be merry? You're poor enough. "

"Come, then, " returned the nephew gaily. "Whatright have you to be dismal? What reason have youto be morose? You're rich enough. "

Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spurof the moment, said, "Bah!" again; and followed it upwith "Humbug. "

"Don't be cross, uncle!" said the nephew. 

"What else can I be, " returned the uncle, "when Ilive in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas!Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmastime to you but a time for paying bills withoutmoney; a time for finding yourself a year older, butnot an hour richer; a time for balancing your booksand having every item in 'em through a round dozenof months presented dead against you? If I couldwork my will, " said Scrooge indignantly, "every idiotwho goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buriedwith a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"

"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew. 

"Nephew!" returned the uncle sternly, "keep Christmasin your own way, and let me keep it in mine. "

"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But youdon't keep it. "

"Let me leave it alone, then, " said Scrooge. "Muchgood may it do you! Much good it has ever doneyou!"

"There are many things from which I might havederived good, by which I have not profited, I daresay, " returned the nephew. "Christmas among therest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmastime, when it has come round--apart from theveneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anythingbelonging to it can be apart from that--as agood time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasanttime; the only time I know of, in the long calendarof the year, when men and women seem by one consentto open their shut-up hearts freely, and to thinkof people below them as if they really werefellow-passengers to the grave, and not another raceof creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold orsilver in my pocket, I believe that it has done megood, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail sparkfor ever. 

"Let me hear another sound from you, " saidScrooge, "and you'll keep your Christmas by losingyour situation! You're quite a powerful speaker, sir, " he added, turning to his nephew. "I wonder youdon't go into Parliament. "

"Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us to-morrow. "

Scrooge said that he would see him--yes, indeed hedid. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first. 

"But why?" cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?"

"Why did you get married?" said Scrooge. 

"Because I fell in love. "

"Because you fell in love!" growled Scrooge, as ifthat were the only one thing in the world more ridiculousthan a merry Christmas. "Good afternoon!"

"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me beforethat happened. Why give it as a reason for notcoming now?"

"Good afternoon, " said Scrooge. 

"I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you;why cannot we be friends?"

"Good afternoon, " said Scrooge. 

"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you soresolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which Ihave been a party. But I have made the trial inhomage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmashumour to the last. So A Merry Christmas, uncle!"

"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge. 

"And A Happy New Year!"

"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge. 

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door tobestow the greetings of the season on the clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returnedthem cordially. 

"There's another fellow, " muttered Scrooge; whooverheard him: "my clerk, with fifteen shillings aweek, and a wife and family, talking about a merryChristmas. I'll retire to Bedlam. "

This lunatic, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, hadlet two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They had books and papers intheir hands, and bowed to him. 

"Scrooge and Marley's, I believe, " said one of thegentlemen, referring to his list. "Have I the pleasureof addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr. Marley?"

"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years, "Scrooge replied. "He died seven years ago, this verynight. "

"We have no doubt his liberality is well representedby his surviving partner, " said the gentleman, presentinghis credentials. 

It certainly was; for they had been two kindredspirits. At the ominous word "liberality, " Scroogefrowned, and shook his head, and handed the credentialsback. 

"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, "said the gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more thanusually desirable that we should make some slightprovision for the Poor and destitute, who suffergreatly at the present time. Many thousands are inwant of common necessaries; hundreds of thousandsare in want of common comforts, sir. "

"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge. 

"Plenty of prisons, " said the gentleman, laying downthe pen again. 

"And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still in operation?"

"They are. Still, " returned the gentleman, "I wishI could say they were not. "

"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?" said Scrooge. 

"Both very busy, sir. "

"Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in theiruseful course, " said Scrooge. "I'm very glad tohear it. "

"Under the impression that they scarcely furnishChristian cheer of mind or body to the multitude, "returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavouringto raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth. We choose this time, becauseit is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you downfor?"

"Nothing!" Scrooge replied. 

"You wish to be anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone, " said Scrooge. "Since youask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can'tafford to make idle people merry. I help to supportthe establishments I have mentioned--they costenough; and those who are badly off must go there. "

"Many can't go there; and many would rather die. "

"If they would rather die, " said Scrooge, "they hadbetter do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides--excuse me--I don't know that. "

"But you might know it, " observed the gentleman. 

"It's not my business, " Scrooge returned. "It'senough for a man to understand his own business, andnot to interfere with other people's. Mine occupiesme constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursuetheir point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumedhis labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usualwith him. 

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, thatpeople ran about with flaring links, proffering theirservices to go before horses in carriages, and conductthem on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily downat Scrooge out of a Gothic window in the wall, becameinvisible, and struck the hours and quarters in theclouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as ifits teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the main street, at thecorner of the court, some labourers were repairingthe gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys weregathered: warming their hands and winking theireyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plugbeing left in solitude, its overflowings sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightnessof the shops where holly sprigs and berriescrackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made palefaces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers'trades became a splendid joke: a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe thatsuch dull principles as bargain and sale had anythingto do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of themighty Mansion House, gave orders to his fifty cooksand butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor'shousehold should; and even the little tailor, whom hehad fined five shillings on the previous Monday forbeing drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred upto-morrow's pudding in his garret, while his leanwife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef. 

Foggier yet, and colder. Piercing, searching, bitingcold. If the good Saint Dunstan had but nippedthe Evil Spirit's nose with a touch of such weatheras that, instead of using his familiar weapons, thenindeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. Theowner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbledby the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrooge's keyhole to regale him witha Christmas carol: but at the first sound of

 "God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay!"

Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole tothe fog and even more congenial frost. 

At length the hour of shutting up the counting-housearrived. With an ill-will Scrooge dismounted from hisstool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectantclerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat. 

"You'll want all day to-morrow, I suppose?" saidScrooge. 

"If quite convenient, sir. "

"It's not convenient, " said Scrooge, "and it's notfair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it, you'dthink yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?"

The clerk smiled faintly. 

"And yet, " said Scrooge, "you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work. "

The clerk observed that it was only once a year. 

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket everytwenty-fifth of December!" said Scrooge, buttoninghis great-coat to the chin. "But I suppose you musthave the whole day. Be here all the earlier nextmorning. "

The clerk promised that he would; and Scroogewalked out with a growl. The office was closed in atwinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends of hiswhite comforter dangling below his waist (for heboasted no great-coat), went down a slide on Cornhill, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, inhonour of its being Christmas Eve, and then ran hometo Camden Town as hard as he could pelt, to playat blindman's-buff. 

Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usualmelancholy tavern; and having read all the newspapers, andbeguiled the rest of the evening with hisbanker's-book, went home to bed. He lived inchambers which had once belonged to his deceasedpartner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in alowering pile of building up a yard, where it had solittle business to be, that one could scarcely helpfancying it must have run there when it was a younghouse, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again. It was old enoughnow, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it butScrooge, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge, who knewits every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gatewayof the house, that it seemed as if the Genius ofthe Weather sat in mournful meditation on thethreshold. 

Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at allparticular about the knocker on the door, except that itwas very large. It is also a fact, that Scrooge hadseen it, night and morning, during his whole residencein that place; also that Scrooge had as little of whatis called fancy about him as any man in the city ofLondon, even including--which is a bold word--thecorporation, aldermen, and livery. Let it also beborne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed onethought on Marley, since his last mention of hisseven years' dead partner that afternoon. And thenlet any man explain to me, if he can, how it happenedthat Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediateprocess of change--not a knocker, but Marley's face. 

Marley's face. It was not in impenetrable shadowas the other objects in the yard were, but had adismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a darkcellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but lookedat Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostlyspectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. Thehair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air;and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectlymotionless. That, and its livid colour, made ithorrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of theface and beyond its control, rather than a part ofits own expression. 

As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, itwas a knocker again. 

To say that he was not startled, or that his bloodwas not conscious of a terrible sensation to which ithad been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle. 

He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, beforehe shut the door; and he did look cautiously behindit first, as if he half expected to be terrified with thesight of Marley's pigtail sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, exceptthe screws and nuts that held the knocker on, so hesaid "Pooh, pooh!" and closed it with a bang. 

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above, and every cask in the wine-merchant'scellars below, appeared to have a separate pealof echoes of its own. Scrooge was not a man tobe frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, andwalked across the hall, and up the stairs; slowly too:trimming his candle as he went. 

You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and-sixup a good old flight of stairs, or through a badyoung Act of Parliament; but I mean to say youmight have got a hearse up that staircase, and takenit broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards the walland the door towards the balustrades: and done iteasy. There was plenty of width for that, and roomto spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scroogethought he saw a locomotive hearse going on beforehim in the gloom. Half-a-dozen gas-lamps out ofthe street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so you may suppose that it was pretty dark withScrooge's dip. 

Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that. Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it. But beforehe shut his heavy door, he walked through his roomsto see that all was right. He had just enough recollectionof the face to desire to do that. 

Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as theyshould be. Nobody under the table, nobody underthe sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basinready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrooge hada cold in his head) upon the hob. Nobody under thebed; nobody in the closet; nobody in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitudeagainst the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard, old shoes, two fish-baskets, washing-stand on threelegs, and a poker. 

Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and lockedhimself in; double-locked himself in, which was not hiscustom. Thus secured against surprise, he took offhis cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, andhis nightcap; and sat down before the fire to takehis gruel. 

It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such abitter night. He was obliged to sit close to it, andbrood over it, before he could extract the leastsensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace was an old one, built by some Dutchmerchant long ago, and paved all round with quaintDutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures. There were Cains and Abels, Pharaoh's daughters;Queens of Sheba, Angelic messengers descendingthrough the air on clouds like feather-beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to sea in butter-boats, hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts;and yet that face of Marley, seven years dead, camelike the ancient Prophet's rod, and swallowed up thewhole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, with power to shape some picture on its surface fromthe disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there wouldhave been a copy of old Marley's head on every one. 

"Humbug!" said Scrooge; and walked across theroom. 

After several turns, he sat down again. As hethrew his head back in the chair, his glance happenedto rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung in theroom, and communicated for some purpose now forgottenwith a chamber in the highest story of thebuilding. It was with great astonishment, and witha strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, hesaw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly inthe outset that it scarcely made a sound; but soon itrang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house. 

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they hadbegun, together. They were succeeded by a clankingnoise, deep down below; as if some person weredragging a heavy chain over the casks in thewine-merchant's cellar. Scrooge then remembered to haveheard that ghosts in haunted houses were described asdragging chains. 

The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floorsbelow; then coming up the stairs; then coming straighttowards his door. 

"It's humbug still!" said Scrooge. "I won't believe it. "

His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed intothe room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, thedying flame leaped up, as though it cried, "I knowhim; Marley's Ghost!" and fell again. 

The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots; the tassels onthe latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew wasclasped about his middle. It was long, and woundabout him like a tail; and it was made (for Scroogeobserved it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, could seethe two buttons on his coat behind. 

Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had nobowels, but he had never believed it until now. 

No, nor did he believe it even now. Though helooked the phantom through and through, and sawit standing before him; though he felt the chillinginfluence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the verytexture of the folded kerchief bound about its headand chin, which wrapper he had not observed before;he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses. 

"How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!"--Marley's voice, no doubt about it. 

"Who are you?"

"Ask me who I was. "

"Who were you then?" said Scrooge, raising hisvoice. "You're particular, for a shade. " He was goingto say "to a shade, " but substituted this, as moreappropriate. 

"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley. "

"Can you--can you sit down?" asked Scrooge, lookingdoubtfully at him. 

"I can. "

"Do it, then. "

Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't knowwhether a ghost so transparent might find himself ina condition to take a chair; and felt that in the eventof its being impossible, it might involve the necessityof an embarrassing explanation. But the ghost satdown on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if hewere quite used to it. 

"You don't believe in me, " observed the Ghost. 

"I don't, " said Scrooge. 

"What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that ofyour senses?"

"I don't know, " said Scrooge. 

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because, " said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You maybe an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb ofcheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more ofgravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

Scrooge was not much in the habit of crackingjokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any meanswaggish then. The truth is, that he tried to besmart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre's voicedisturbed the very marrow in his bones. 

To sit, staring at those fixed glazed eyes, in silencefor a moment, would play, Scrooge felt, the verydeuce with him. There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernalatmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel ithimself, but this was clearly the case; for though theGhost sat perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapourfrom an oven. 

"You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge, returningquickly to the charge, for the reason just assigned;and wishing, though it were only for a second, todivert the vision's stony gaze from himself. 

"I do, " replied the Ghost. 

"You are not looking at it, " said Scrooge. 

"But I see it, " said the Ghost, "notwithstanding. "

"Well!" returned Scrooge, "I have but to swallowthis, and be for the rest of my days persecuted by alegion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you! humbug!"

At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shookits chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, thatScrooge held on tight to his chair, to save himselffrom falling in a swoon. But how much greater washis horror, when the phantom taking off the bandageround its head, as if it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast!

Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his handsbefore his face. 

"Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why doyou trouble me?"

"Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, "doyou believe in me or not?"

"I do, " said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spiritswalk the earth, and why do they come to me?"

"It is required of every man, " the Ghost returned, "that the spirit within him should walk abroad amonghis fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if thatspirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do soafter death. It is doomed to wander through theworld--oh, woe is me!--and witness what it cannotshare, but might have shared on earth, and turned tohappiness!"

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chainand wrung its shadowy hands. 

"You are fettered, " said Scrooge, trembling. "Tellme why?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life, " replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girdedit on of my own free will, and of my own free will Iwore it. Is its pattern strange to you?"

Scrooge trembled more and more. 

"Or would you know, " pursued the Ghost, "theweight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself?It was full as heavy and as long as this, sevenChristmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!"

Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in theexpectation of finding himself surrounded by some fiftyor sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could seenothing. 

"Jacob, " he said, imploringly. "Old Jacob Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob!"

"I have none to give, " the Ghost replied. "It comesfrom other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyedby other ministers, to other kinds of men. Norcan I tell you what I would. A very little more isall permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, Icannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walkedbeyond our counting-house--mark me!--in life myspirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of ourmoney-changing hole; and weary journeys lie beforeme!"

It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he becamethoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off hisknees. 

"You must have been very slow about it, Jacob, "Scrooge observed, in a business-like manner, thoughwith humility and deference. 

"Slow!" the Ghost repeated. 

"Seven years dead, " mused Scrooge. "And travellingall the time!"

"The whole time, " said the Ghost. "No rest, nopeace. Incessant torture of remorse. "

"You travel fast?" said Scrooge. 

"On the wings of the wind, " replied the Ghost. 

"You might have got over a great quantity ofground in seven years, " said Scrooge. 

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, andclanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence ofthe night, that the Ward would have been justified inindicting it for a nuisance. 

"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed, " cried thephantom, "not to know, that ages of incessant labourby immortal creatures, for this earth must pass intoeternity before the good of which it is susceptible isall developed. Not to know that any Christian spiritworking kindly in its little sphere, whatever it maybe, will find its mortal life too short for its vastmeans of usefulness. Not to know that no space ofregret can make amends for one life's opportunitymisused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!"

"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob, " faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply thisto himself. 

"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its handsagain. "Mankind was my business. The commonwelfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealingsof my trade were but a drop of water in thecomprehensive ocean of my business!"

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that werethe cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung itheavily upon the ground again. 

"At this time of the rolling year, " the spectre said, "I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds offellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and neverraise them to that blessed Star which led the WiseMen to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes towhich its light would have conducted me!"

Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear thespectre going on at this rate, and began to quakeexceedingly. 

"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearlygone. "

"I will, " said Scrooge. "But don't be hard uponme! Don't be flowery, Jacob! Pray!"

"How it is that I appear before you in a shape thatyou can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisiblebeside you many and many a day. "

It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped the perspiration from his brow. 

"That is no light part of my penance, " pursuedthe Ghost. "I am here to-night to warn you, that youhave yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. Achance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer. "

"You were always a good friend to me, " saidScrooge. "Thank'ee!"

"You will be haunted, " resumed the Ghost, "byThree Spirits. "

Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as theGhost's had done. 

"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?" he demanded, in a faltering voice. 

"It is. "

"I--I think I'd rather not, " said Scrooge. 

"Without their visits, " said the Ghost, "you cannothope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow, when the bell tolls One. "

"Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?" hinted Scrooge. 

"Expect the second on the next night at the samehour. The third upon the next night when the laststroke of Twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to seeme no more; and look that, for your own sake, youremember what has passed between us!"

When it had said these words, the spectre took itswrapper from the table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge knew this, by the smart sound itsteeth made, when the jaws were brought togetherby the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting himin an erect attitude, with its chain wound over andabout its arm. 

The apparition walked backward from him; and atevery step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open. 

It beckoned Scrooge to approach, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Marley's Ghost held up its hand, warning him tocome no nearer. Scrooge stopped. 

Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear:for on the raising of the hand, he became sensibleof confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds oflamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful andself-accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon thebleak, dark night. 

Scrooge followed to the window: desperate in hiscuriosity. He looked out. 

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hitherand thither in restless haste, and moaning as theywent. Every one of them wore chains like Marley'sGhost; some few (they might be guilty governments)were linked together; none were free. Many hadbeen personally known to Scrooge in their lives. Hehad been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a whitewaistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached toits ankle, who cried piteously at being unable to assista wretched woman with an infant, whom it saw below, upon a door-step. The misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, inhuman matters, and had lost the power for ever. 

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mistenshrouded them, he could not tell. But they andtheir spirit voices faded together; and the night becameas it had been when he walked home. 

Scrooge closed the window, and examined the doorby which the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, andthe bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say "Humbug!"but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatiguesof the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, orthe dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness ofthe hour, much in need of repose; went straight tobed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon theinstant. 

STAVE II: THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

WHEN Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window fromthe opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavouring topierce the darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of aneighbouring church struck the four quarters. So he listenedfor the hour. 

To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on fromsix to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up totwelve; then stopped. Twelve! It was past two when hewent to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must havegot into the works. Twelve!

He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this mostpreposterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve:and stopped. 

"Why, it isn't possible, " said Scrooge, "that I can haveslept through a whole day and far into another night. Itisn't possible that anything has happened to the sun, andthis is twelve at noon!"

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rubthe frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before hecould see anything; and could see very little then. All hecould make out was, that it was still very foggy and extremelycold, and that there was no noise of people running to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have beenif night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of theworld. This was a great relief, because "three days after sightof this First of Exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or hisorder, " and so forth, would have become a mere United States'security if there were no days to count by. 

Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thoughtit over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more hethought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavourednot to think, the more he thought. 

Marley's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolvedwithin himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, hismind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its firstposition, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, "Was it a dream or not?"

Scrooge lay in this state until the chime had gone three quartersmore, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warnedhim of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lieawake until the hour was passed; and, considering that he couldno more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was perhaps thewisest resolution in his power. 

The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced hemust have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear. 

"Ding, dong!"

"A quarter past, " said Scrooge, counting. 

"Ding, dong!"

"Half-past!" said Scrooge. 

"Ding, dong!"

"A quarter to it, " said Scrooge. 

"Ding, dong!"

"The hour itself, " said Scrooge, triumphantly, "and nothing else!"

He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with adeep, dull, hollow, melancholy ONE. Light flashed up in the roomupon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn. 

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by ahand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at hisback, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtainsof his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into ahalf-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with theunearthly visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am nowto you, and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow. 

It was a strange figure--like a child: yet not so like achild as like an old man, viewed through some supernaturalmedium, which gave him the appearance of having recededfrom the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, waswhite as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle init, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms werevery long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its holdwere of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicatelyformed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunicof the purest white; and round its waist was bounda lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It helda branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singularcontradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmedwith summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clearjet of light, by which all this was visible; and which wasdoubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, agreat extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm. 

Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasingsteadiness, was not its strangest quality. For as its beltsparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at another time was dark, sothe figure itself fluctuated in its distinctness: being now athing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without abody: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visiblein the dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in thevery wonder of this, it would be itself again; distinct andclear as ever. 

"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold tome?" asked Scrooge. 

"I am!"

The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as ifinstead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance. 

"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded. 

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. "

"Long Past?" inquired Scrooge: observant of its dwarfishstature. 

"No. Your past. "

Perhaps, Scrooge could not have told anybody why, ifanybody could have asked him; but he had a special desireto see the Spirit in his cap; and begged him to be covered. 

"What!" exclaimed the Ghost, "would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enoughthat you are one of those whose passions made this cap, andforce me through whole trains of years to wear it low uponmy brow!"

Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offendor any knowledge of having wilfully "bonneted" the Spirit atany period of his life. He then made bold to inquire whatbusiness brought him there. 

"Your welfare!" said the Ghost. 

Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could nothelp thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have beenmore conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heardhim thinking, for it said immediately:

"Your reclamation, then. Take heed!"

It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped himgently by the arm. 

"Rise! and walk with me!"

It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that theweather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes;that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way belowfreezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him atthat time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spiritmade towards the window, clasped his robe in supplication. 

"I am a mortal, " Scrooge remonstrated, "and liable to fall. "

"Bear but a touch of my hand there, " said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, "and you shall be upheld in morethan this!"

As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on eitherhand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of itwas to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanishedwith it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow uponthe ground. 

"Good Heaven!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. "I was bred in this place. I wasa boy here!"

The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared stillpresent to the old man's sense of feeling. He was consciousof a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connectedwith a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and careslong, long, forgotten!

"Your lip is trembling, " said the Ghost. "And what isthat upon your cheek?"

Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead himwhere he would. 

"You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit. 

"Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervour; "I couldwalk it blindfold. "

"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observedthe Ghost. "Let us go on. "

They walked along the road, Scrooge recognising everygate, and post, and tree; until a little market-town appearedin the distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards themwith boys upon their backs, who called to other boys incountry gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boyswere in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until thebroad fields were so full of merry music, that the crisp airlaughed to hear it!

"These are but shadows of the things that have been, " saidthe Ghost. "They have no consciousness of us. "

The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Scroogeknew and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyondall bounds to see them! Why did his cold eye glisten, andhis heart leap up as they went past! Why was he filledwith gladness when he heard them give each other MerryChristmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, fortheir several homes! What was merry Christmas to Scrooge?Out upon merry Christmas! What good had it ever doneto him?

"The school is not quite deserted, " said the Ghost. "Asolitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still. "

Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed. 

They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, andsoon approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a littleweathercock-surmounted cupola, on the roof, and a bellhanging in it. It was a large house, but one of brokenfortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their wallswere damp and mossy, their windows broken, and theirgates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables;and the coach-houses and sheds were over-run with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within; forentering the dreary hall, and glancing through the opendoors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished, cold, and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air, achilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehowwith too much getting up by candle-light, and not toomuch to eat. 

They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to adoor at the back of the house. It opened before them, anddisclosed a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still bylines of plain deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonelyboy was reading near a feeble fire; and Scrooge sat downupon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as heused to be. 

Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scufflefrom the mice behind the panelling, not a drip from thehalf-thawed water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh amongthe leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idleswinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking inthe fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with a softeninginfluence, and gave a freer passage to his tears. 

The Spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to hisyounger self, intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man, inforeign garments: wonderfully real and distinct to look at:stood outside the window, with an axe stuck in his belt, andleading by the bridle an ass laden with wood. 

"Why, it's Ali Baba!" Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. "It'sdear old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmastime, when yonder solitary child was left here all alone, he did come, for the first time, just like that. Poor boy! AndValentine, " said Scrooge, "and his wild brother, Orson; therethey go! And what's his name, who was put down in hisdrawers, asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don't you see him!And the Sultan's Groom turned upside down by the Genii;there he is upon his head! Serve him right. I'm glad of it. What business had he to be married to the Princess!"

To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his natureon such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice betweenlaughing and crying; and to see his heightened and excitedface; would have been a surprise to his business friends inthe city, indeed. 

"There's the Parrot!" cried Scrooge. "Green body andyellow tail, with a thing like a lettuce growing out of thetop of his head; there he is! Poor Robin Crusoe, he calledhim, when he came home again after sailing round theisland. 'Poor Robin Crusoe, where have you been, RobinCrusoe?' The man thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. It was the Parrot, you know. There goes Friday, runningfor his life to the little creek! Halloa! Hoop! Halloo!"

Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to hisusual character, he said, in pity for his former self, "Poorboy!" and cried again. 

"I wish, " Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in hispocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with hiscuff: "but it's too late now. "

"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit. 

"Nothing, " said Scrooge. "Nothing. There was a boysinging a Christmas Carol at my door last night. I shouldlike to have given him something: that's all. "

The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand:saying as it did so, "Let us see another Christmas!"

Scrooge's former self grew larger at the words, and theroom became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrunk, the windows cracked; fragments of plaster fell out of theceiling, and the naked laths were shown instead; but howall this was brought about, Scrooge knew no more than youdo. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everythinghad happened so; that there he was, alone again, when allthe other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays. 

He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly. Scrooge looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking ofhis head, glanced anxiously towards the door. 

It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, andoften kissing him, addressed him as her "Dear, dearbrother. "

"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said thechild, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!"

"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy. 

"Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. "Home, for goodand all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinderthan he used to be, that home's like Heaven! He spoke sogently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, thatI was not afraid to ask him once more if you might comehome; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coachto bring you. And you're to be a man!" said the child, opening her eyes, "and are never to come back here; butfirst, we're to be together all the Christmas long, and havethe merriest time in all the world. "

"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" exclaimed the boy. 

She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch hishead; but being too little, laughed again, and stood ontiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in herchildish eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth togo, accompanied her. 

A terrible voice in the hall cried, "Bring down MasterScrooge's box, there!" and in the hall appeared the schoolmasterhimself, who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferociouscondescension, and threw him into a dreadful state of mindby shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and hissister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlour thatever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestialand terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and ablock of curiously heavy cake, and administered instalmentsof those dainties to the young people: at the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of "something"to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he hadrather not. Master Scrooge's trunk being by this time tiedon to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmastergood-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drovegaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels dashing thehoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreenslike spray. 

"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might havewithered, " said the Ghost. "But she had a large heart!"

"So she had, " cried Scrooge. "You're right. I will notgainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!"

"She died a woman, " said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, children. "

"One child, " Scrooge returned. 

"True, " said the Ghost. "Your nephew!"

Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, "Yes. "

Although they had but that moment left the school behindthem, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowycarts and coaches battled for the way, and all the strife andtumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, bythe dressing of the shops, that here too it was Christmastime again; but it was evening, and the streets werelighted up. 

The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and askedScrooge if he knew it. 

"Know it!" said Scrooge. "Was I apprenticed here!"

They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welshwig, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been twoinches taller he must have knocked his head against theceiling, Scrooge cried in great excitement:

"Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwigalive again!"

Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at theclock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed hishands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all overhimself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence; andcalled out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice:

"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"

Scrooge's former self, now grown a young man, came brisklyin, accompanied by his fellow-'prentice. 

"Dick Wilkins, to be sure!" said Scrooge to the Ghost. "Bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attachedto me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!"

"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let'shave the shutters up, " cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clapof his hands, "before a man can say Jack Robinson!"

You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it!They charged into the street with the shutters--one, two, three--had 'em up in their places--four, five, six--barred'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight, nine--and came backbefore you could have got to twelve, panting like race-horses. 

"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from thehigh desk, with wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!"

Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have clearedaway, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig lookingon. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as ifit were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor wasswept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped uponthe fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, andbright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter'snight. 

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to thelofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fiftystomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantialsmile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming andlovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts theybroke. In came all the young men and women employed inthe business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, thebaker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who wassuspected of not having board enough from his master; tryingto hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, whowas proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling;in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back againthe other way; down the middle and up again; roundand round in various stages of affectionate grouping; oldtop couple always turning up in the wrong place; new topcouple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all topcouples at last, and not a bottom one to help them! Whenthis result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping hishands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and thefiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especiallyprovided for that purpose. But scorning rest, upon hisreappearance, he instantly began again, though there were nodancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran-new manresolved to beat him out of sight, or perish. 

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and moredances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and therewas a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great pieceof Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roastand Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful dog, mind! The sortof man who knew his business better than you or I couldhave told it him!) struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley. " Thenold Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Topcouple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them;three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who werenot to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had nonotion of walking. 

But if they had been twice as many--ah, four times--oldFezziwig would have been a match for them, and so wouldMrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partnerin every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell mehigher, and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issuefrom Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of thedance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any giventime, what would have become of them next. And when oldFezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance;advance and retire, both hands to your partner, bow andcurtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again toyour place; Fezziwig "cut"--cut so deftly, that he appearedto wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again withouta stagger. 

When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. And Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either sideof the door, and shaking hands with every person individuallyas he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they didthe same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds; which were under acounter in the back-shop. 

During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like aman out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwentthe strangest agitation. It was not until now, when thebright faces of his former self and Dick were turned fromthem, that he remembered the Ghost, and became consciousthat it was looking full upon him, while the light upon itshead burnt very clear. 

"A small matter, " said the Ghost, "to make these sillyfolks so full of gratitude. "

"Small!" echoed Scrooge. 

The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig:and when he had done so, said, "Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds ofyour mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that somuch that he deserves this praise?"

"It isn't that, " said Scrooge, heated by the remark, andspeaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happyor unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; apleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words andlooks; in things so slight and insignificant that it isimpossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happinesshe gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune. "

He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped. 

"What is the matter?" asked the Ghost. 

"Nothing particular, " said Scrooge. 

"Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted. 

"No, " said Scrooge, "No. I should like to be able to saya word or two to my clerk just now. That's all. "

His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utteranceto the wish; and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side byside in the open air. 

"My time grows short, " observed the Spirit. "Quick!"

This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom hecould see, but it produced an immediate effect. For againScrooge saw himself. He was older now; a man in the primeof life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of lateryears; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, whichshowed the passion that had taken root, and where theshadow of the growing tree would fall. 

He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair younggirl in a mourning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost ofChristmas Past. 

"It matters little, " she said, softly. "To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfortyou in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I haveno just cause to grieve. "

"What Idol has displaced you?" he rejoined. 

"A golden one. "

"This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said. "There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; andthere is nothing it professes to condemn with such severityas the pursuit of wealth!"

"You fear the world too much, " she answered, gently. "All your other hopes have merged into the hope of beingbeyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen yournobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"

"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown somuch wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you. "

She shook her head. 

"Am I?"

"Our contract is an old one. It was made when we wereboth poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we couldimprove our worldly fortune by our patient industry. Youare changed. When it was made, you were another man. "

"I was a boy, " he said impatiently. 

"Your own feeling tells you that you were not what youare, " she returned. "I am. That which promised happinesswhen we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now thatwe are two. How often and how keenly I have thought ofthis, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you. "

"Have I ever sought release?"

"In words. No. Never. "

"In what, then?"

"In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in anotheratmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. Ineverything that made my love of any worth or value in yoursight. If this had never been between us, " said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; "tell me, would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!"

He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, inspite of himself. But he said with a struggle, "You thinknot. "

"I would gladly think otherwise if I could, " she answered, "Heaven knows! When I have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if youwere free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believethat you would choose a dowerless girl--you who, in yourvery confidence with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to yourone guiding principle to do so, do I not know that yourrepentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and Irelease you. With a full heart, for the love of him youonce were. "

He was about to speak; but with her head turned fromhim, she resumed. 

"You may--the memory of what is past half makes mehope you will--have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as anunprofitable dream, from which it happened well that youawoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen!"

She left him, and they parted. 

"Spirit!" said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conductme home. Why do you delight to torture me?"

"One shadow more!" exclaimed the Ghost. 

"No more!" cried Scrooge. "No more. I don't wish tosee it. Show me no more!"

But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him to observe what happened next. 

They were in another scene and place; a room, not verylarge or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winterfire sat a beautiful young girl, so like that last that Scroogebelieved it was the same, until he saw her, now a comelymatron, sitting opposite her daughter. The noise in thisroom was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more childrenthere, than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count;and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were notforty children conducting themselves like one, but everychild was conducting itself like forty. The consequenceswere uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed to care;on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning tomingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigandsmost ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one ofthem! Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! Iwouldn't for the wealth of all the world have crushed thatbraided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious littleshoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, God bless my soul! tosave my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as theydid, bold young brood, I couldn't have done it; I shouldhave expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And yet I shouldhave dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to havequestioned her, that she might have opened them; to havelooked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and neverraised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch ofwhich would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I shouldhave liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licenceof a child, and yet to have been man enough to know itsvalue. 

But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such arush immediately ensued that she with laughing face andplundered dress was borne towards it the centre of a flushedand boisterous group, just in time to greet the father, whocame home attended by a man laden with Christmas toysand presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, andthe onslaught that was made on the defenceless porter!The scaling him with chairs for ladders to dive into hispockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tightby his cravat, hug him round his neck, pommel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts ofwonder and delight with which the development of everypackage was received! The terrible announcement that thebaby had been taken in the act of putting a doll's frying-paninto his mouth, and was more than suspected of havingswallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter!The immense relief of finding this a false alarm! The joy, and gratitude, and ecstasy! They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the children and their emotionsgot out of the parlour, and by one stair at a time, up to thetop of the house; where they went to bed, and so subsided. 

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaningfondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at hisown fireside; and when he thought that such anothercreature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, mighthave called him father, and been a spring-time in thehaggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed. 

"Belle, " said the husband, turning to his wife with asmile, "I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon. "

"Who was it?"

"Guess!"

"How can I? Tut, don't I know?" she added in thesame breath, laughing as he laughed. "Mr. Scrooge. "

"Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window; and asit was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I couldscarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the pointof death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite alone inthe world, I do believe. "

"Spirit!" said Scrooge in a broken voice, "remove mefrom this place. "

"I told you these were shadows of the things that havebeen, " said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, donot blame me!"

"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed, "I cannot bear it!"

He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked uponhim with a face, in which in some strange way there werefragments of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it. 

"Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!"

In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in whichthe Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part wasundisturbed by any effort of its adversary, Scrooge observedthat its light was burning high and bright; and dimlyconnecting that with its influence over him, he seized theextinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it downupon its head. 

The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguishercovered its whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it downwith all his force, he could not hide the light: which streamedfrom under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground. 

He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by anirresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his ownbedroom. He gave the cap a parting squeeze, in which his handrelaxed; and had barely time to reel to bed, before he sankinto a heavy sleep. 

STAVE III: THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS

AWAKING in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, andsitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge hadno occasion to be told that the bell was again upon thestroke of One. He felt that he was restored to consciousnessin the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holdinga conference with the second messenger despatched to himthrough Jacob Marley's intervention. But finding that heturned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder whichof his curtains this new spectre would draw back, he putthem every one aside with his own hands; and lying downagain, established a sharp look-out all round the bed. Forhe wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of itsappearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise, andmade nervous. 

Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselveson being acquainted with a move or two, and being usuallyequal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of theircapacity for adventure by observing that they are good foranything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between whichopposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide andcomprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing forScrooge quite as hardily as this, I don't mind calling on youto believe that he was ready for a good broad field ofstrange appearances, and that nothing between a baby andrhinoceros would have astonished him very much. 

Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not byany means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when theBell struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with aviolent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarterof an hour went by, yet nothing came. All this time, he layupon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddylight, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed thehour; and which, being only light, was more alarming thana dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what itmeant, or would be at; and was sometimes apprehensivethat he might be at that very moment an interesting case ofspontaneous combustion, without having the consolation ofknowing it. At last, however, he began to think--as you orI would have thought at first; for it is always the person notin the predicament who knows what ought to have been donein it, and would unquestionably have done it too--at last, Isay, he began to think that the source and secret of thisghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea takingfull 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 strangevoice called him by his name, and bade him enter. Heobeyed. 

It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The wallsand ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked aperfect grove; from every part of which, bright gleamingberries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, andivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors hadbeen scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaringup the chimney, as that dull petrification of a hearth hadnever known in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, or for many andmany a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor, to forma kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, thatmade the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easystate upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious tosee; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty'shorn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door. 

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and knowme better, man!"

Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before thisSpirit. He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; andthough the Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not liketo meet them. 

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, " said the Spirit. "Look upon me!"

Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simplegreen robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garmenthung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast wasbare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by anyartifice. Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of thegarment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no othercovering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shiningicicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as itsgenial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girdedround its middle was an antique scabbard; but no swordwas in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust. 

"You have never seen the like of me before!" exclaimedthe Spirit. 

"Never, " Scrooge made answer to it. 

"Have never walked forth with the younger members ofmy family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothersborn in these later years?" pursued the Phantom. 

"I don't think I have, " said Scrooge. "I am afraid I havenot. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?"

"More than eighteen hundred, " said the Ghost. 

"A tremendous family to provide for!" muttered Scrooge. 

The Ghost of Christmas Present rose. 

"Spirit, " said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me whereyou will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnta lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aughtto teach me, let me profit by it. "

"Touch my robe!"

Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast. 

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, 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, where (for theweather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk andnot unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from thepavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops oftheir houses, whence it was mad delight to the boys to seeit come plumping down into the road below, and splittinginto artificial little snow-storms. 

The house fronts looked black enough, and the windowsblacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snowupon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground;which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows bythe heavy wheels of carts and waggons; furrows that crossedand re-crossed each other hundreds of times where the greatstreets branched off; and made intricate channels, hard to tracein the thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descendedin a shower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in GreatBritain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were blazing awayto their dear hearts' content. There was nothing very cheerfulin the climate or the town, and yet was there an air ofcheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightestsummer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain. 

For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetopswere jovial and full of glee; calling out to one anotherfrom the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetioussnowball--better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest--laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if itwent wrong. The poulterers' shops were still half open, and thefruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoatsof jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling outinto the street in their apoplectic opulence. There wereruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining inthe fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winkingfrom their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they wentby, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There werepears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; therewere bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolenceto dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths mightwater gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossyand brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks amongthe woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through witheredleaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squat and swarthy, settingoff the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the greatcompactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating andbeseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten afterdinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth amongthese choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull andstagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there wassomething going on; and, to a fish, went gasping round andround their little world in slow and passionless excitement. 

The Grocers'! oh, the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhapstwo shutters down, or one; but through those gaps suchglimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on thecounter made a merry sound, or that the twine and rollerparted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattledup and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blendedscents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or eventhat the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds soextremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked andspotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-onfeel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figswere moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed inmodest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or thateverything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress; butthe customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopefulpromise of the day, that they tumbled up against each otherat the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and lefttheir purchases upon the counter, and came running back tofetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, inthe best humour possible; while the Grocer and his peoplewere so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with whichthey fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas dawsto peck at if they chose. 

But soon the steeples called good people all, to church andchapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets intheir best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at thesame time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, andnameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinnersto the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revellersappeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood withScrooge beside him in a baker's doorway, and taking off thecovers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on theirdinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kindof torch, for once or twice when there were angry wordsbetween some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, heshed a few drops of water on them from it, and their goodhumour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shameto quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God loveit, so it was!

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; andyet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinnersand the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch ofwet above each baker's oven; where the pavement smoked asif its stones were cooking too. 

"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle fromyour torch?" asked Scrooge. 

"There is. My own. "

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?"asked Scrooge. 

"To any kindly given. To a poor one most. "

"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge. 

"Because it needs it most. "

"Spirit, " said Scrooge, after a moment's thought, "I wonderyou, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, shoulddesire to cramp these people's opportunities of innocentenjoyment. "

"I!" cried the Spirit. 

"You would deprive them of their means of dining everyseventh day, often the only day on which they can be saidto dine at all, " said Scrooge. "Wouldn't you?"

"I!" cried the Spirit. 

"You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day?" saidScrooge. "And it comes to the same thing. "

"I seek!" exclaimed the Spirit. 

"Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in yourname, or at least in that of your family, " said Scrooge. 

"There are some upon this earth of yours, " returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishnessin our name, who are as strange to us and all our kith andkin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and chargetheir doings on themselves, not us. "

Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had been before, into the suburbs of thetown. It was a remarkable quality of the Ghost (whichScrooge had observed at the baker's), that notwithstandinghis gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any placewith ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite asgracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possiblehe could have done in any lofty hall. 

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had inshowing off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and his sympathy with all poormen, that led him straight to Scrooge's clerk's; for there hewent, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; andon the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stoppedto bless Bob Cratchit's dwelling with the sprinkling of historch. Think of that! Bob had but fifteen "Bob" a-weekhimself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of hisChristian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Presentblessed his four-roomed house!

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed outbut poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; andshe laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second ofher daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master PeterCratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, andgetting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob's privateproperty, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of theday) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantlyattired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearingin, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt thegoose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxuriousthoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits dancedabout the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to theskies, while he (not proud, although his collars nearly chokedhim) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out andpeeled. 

"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim! And Marthawarn't as late last Christmas Day by half-an-hour?"

"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as shespoke. 

"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's such a goose, Martha!"

"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!"said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking offher shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal. 

"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, " replied thegirl, "and had to clear away this morning, mother!"

"Well! Never mind so long as you are come, " said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and havea warm, Lord bless ye!"

"No, no! There's father coming, " cried the two youngCratchits, 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 comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his threadbare clothes darnedup and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon hisshoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, andhad his limbs supported by an iron frame!

"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, lookinground. 

"Not coming, " said Mrs. Cratchit. 

"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in hishigh spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the wayfrom church, and had come home rampant. "Not comingupon Christmas Day!"

Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were onlyin joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closetdoor, and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchitshustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper. 

"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob hadhugged his daughter to his heart's content. 

"As good as gold, " said Bob, "and better. Somehow hegets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks thestrangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because hewas a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to rememberupon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blindmen see. "

Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, andtrembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growingstrong and hearty. 

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and backcame Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted byhis brother and sister to his stool before the fire; and whileBob, turning up his cuffs--as if, poor fellow, they werecapable of being made more shabby--compounded some hotmixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it roundand round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch thegoose, with which they soon returned in high procession. 

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goosethe rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which ablack swan was a matter of course--and in truth it wassomething very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit madethe gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot;Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour;Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dustedthe hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tinycorner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs foreverybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guardupon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lestthey should shriek for goose before their turn came to behelped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace wassaid. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, preparedto plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when thelong expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur ofdelight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table withthe handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believethere ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness andflavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universaladmiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, asMrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one smallatom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all atlast! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngestCratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion tothe eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by MissBelinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous tobear witnesses--to take the pudding up and bring it in. 

Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it shouldbreak in turning out! Suppose somebody should have gotover the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while theywere merry with the goose--a supposition at which the twoyoung Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors weresupposed. 

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out ofthe copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was thecloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's nextdoor to each other, with a laundress's next door to that!That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchitentered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in halfof half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight withChristmas holly stuck into the top. 

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmlytoo, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved byMrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said thatnow the weight was off her mind, she would confess she hadhad her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody hadsomething to say about it, but nobody said or thought itwas at all a small pudding for a large family. It would havebeen flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushedto hint at such a thing. 

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, thehearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in thejug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and orangeswere put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on thefire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, inwhat Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; andat Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. 

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well asgolden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out withbeaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered andcracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:

"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"

Which all the family re-echoed. 

"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 

He sat very close to his father's side upon his littlestool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if heloved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, anddreaded that he might be taken from him. 

"Spirit, " said Scrooge, with an interest he had never feltbefore, "tell me if Tiny Tim will live. "

"I see a vacant seat, " replied the Ghost, "in the poorchimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefullypreserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die. "

"No, no, " said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit! say hewill be spared. "

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, noneother of my race, " returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, anddecrease the surplus population. "

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted bythe Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief. 

"Man, " said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, notadamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discoveredWhat the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide whatmen shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in thesight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to livethan millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hearthe Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much lifeamong his hungry brothers in the dust!"

Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling casthis eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, onhearing his own name. 

"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, theFounder of the Feast!"

"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a pieceof my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a goodappetite for it. "

"My dear, " said Bob, "the children! Christmas Day. "

"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure, " said she, "onwhich one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert!Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow!"

"My dear, " was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas Day. "

"I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's, " saidMrs. Cratchit, "not for his. Long life to him! A merryChristmas and a happy new year! He'll be very merry andvery happy, I have no doubt!"

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first oftheir proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drankit last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scroogewas the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name casta dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for fullfive minutes. 

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier thanbefore, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being donewith. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in hiseye for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, fullfive-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughedtremendously at the idea of Peter's being a man of business;and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire frombetween his collars, as if he were deliberating what particularinvestments he should favour when he came into the receiptof that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poorapprentice at a milliner's, then told them what kind of workshe had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for agood long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed athome. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord somedays before, and how the lord "was much about as tall asPeter;" at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that youcouldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All thistime the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; andby-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling inthe snow, from Tiny 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 shoeswere far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty;and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the insideof a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful, pleasedwith one another, and contented with the time; and whenthey faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklingsof the Spirit's torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye uponthem, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last. 

By this time it was getting dark, and snowing prettyheavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, andall sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, the flickering ofthe blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hotplates baking through and through before the fire, and deepred curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There all the children of the house were running outinto the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; andthere a group of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some nearneighbour's house; where, woe upon the single man who sawthem enter--artful witches, well they knew it--in a glow!

But, if you had judged from the numbers of people ontheir way to friendly gatherings, you might have thoughtthat no one was at home to give them welcome when theygot there, instead of every house expecting company, andpiling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it, howthe Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, andopened its capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, witha generous hand, its bright and harmless mirth on everythingwithin its reach! The very lamplighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky street with specks of light, and who wasdressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out loudlyas the Spirit passed, though little kenned the lamplighterthat he had any company but Christmas!

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, theystood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous massesof rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-placeof giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost that held it prisoner;and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fieryred, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like asullen eye, and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost inthe thick gloom of darkest night. 

"What place is this?" asked Scrooge. 

"A place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels ofthe earth, " returned the Spirit. "But they know me. See!"

A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly theyadvanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud andstone, they found a cheerful company assembled round aglowing fire. An old, old man and woman, with theirchildren and their children's children, and another generationbeyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howlingof the wind upon the barren waste, was singing them aChristmas song--it had been a very old song when he was aboy--and from time to time they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got quiteblithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigoursank again. 

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold hisrobe, and passing on above the moor, sped--whither? Notto sea? To sea. To Scrooge's horror, looking back, he sawthe last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them;and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as itrolled and roared, and raged among the dreadful caverns ithad worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth. 

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some leagueor so from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of sea-weed clung to its base, and storm-birds--born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of thewater--rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed. 

But even here, two men who watched the light had madea fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shedout a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining theirhorny hands over the rough table at which they sat, theywished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; andone of them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged andscarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old shipmight be: struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale initself. 

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea--on, on--until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from anyshore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsmanat the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers whohad the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations;but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, orhad a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to hiscompanion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homewardhopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking orsleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for anotheron that day than on any day in the year; and had sharedto some extent in its festivities; and had remembered thosehe cared for at a distance, and had known that they delightedto remember him. 

It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to themoaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing itwas to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknownabyss, whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: itwas a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to heara hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scroogeto recognise it as his own nephew's and to find himself in abright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smilingby his side, and looking at that same nephew with approvingaffability!

"Ha, ha!" laughed Scrooge's nephew. "Ha, ha, ha!"

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know aman more blest in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I cansay is, I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance. 

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, thatwhile there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothingin the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter andgood-humour. When Scrooge's nephew laughed in this way: holdinghis sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into themost extravagant contortions: Scrooge's niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends beingnot a bit behindhand, roared out lustily. 

"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"

"He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" criedScrooge's nephew. "He believed it too!"

"More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indignantly. Bless those women; they never do anything byhalves. They are always in earnest. 

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, thatseemed made to be kissed--as no doubt it was; all kinds ofgood little dots about her chin, that melted into one anotherwhen she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you eversaw in any little creature's head. Altogether she was whatyou would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory. 

"He's a comical old fellow, " said Scrooge's nephew, "that'sthe truth: and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their own punishment, and I have nothingto say against him. "

"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. "Hiswealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't thesatisfaction of thinking--ha, ha, ha!--that he is ever goingto benefit US with it. "

"I have no patience with him, " observed Scrooge's niece. Scrooge's niece's sisters, and all the other ladies, expressedthe same opinion. 

"Oh, I have!" said Scrooge's nephew. "I am sorry forhim; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffersby his ill whims! Himself, always. Here, he takes it intohis head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He don't lose much of a dinner. "

"Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner, " interruptedScrooge's niece. Everybody else said the same, and theymust be allowed to have been competent judges, becausethey had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon thetable, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight. 

"Well! I'm very glad to hear it, " said Scrooge's nephew, "because I haven't great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?"

Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge's niece'ssisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge's niece's sister--the plump one with the lacetucker: not the one with the roses--blushed. 

"Do go on, Fred, " said Scrooge's niece, clapping her hands. "He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such aridiculous fellow!"

Scrooge's nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it wasimpossible to keep the infection off; though the plump sistertried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example wasunanimously followed. 

"I was only going to say, " said Scrooge's nephew, "thatthe consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not makingmerry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasantmoments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he losespleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. Imean to give him the same chance every year, whether helikes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmastill he dies, but he can't help thinking better of it--I defyhim--if he finds me going there, in good temper, year afteryear, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you? If it onlyputs him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, that's something; and I think I shook him yesterday. "

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shakingScrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not muchcaring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at anyrate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed thebottle joyously. 

After tea, they had some music. For they were a musicalfamily, and knew what they were about, when they sung aGlee or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, whocould growl away in the bass like a good one, and neverswell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the faceover it. Scrooge's niece played well upon the harp; andplayed among other tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing:you might learn to whistle it in two minutes), which hadbeen familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from theboarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost ofChristmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all thethings that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; hesoftened more and more; and thought that if he could havelistened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated thekindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands, without resorting to the sexton's spade that buried JacobMarley. 

But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. Aftera while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be childrensometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when itsmighty Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was firsta game at blind-man's buff. Of course there was. And Ino more believe Topper was really blind than I believe hehad eyes in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a donething between him and Scrooge's nephew; and that theGhost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went afterthat plump sister in 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 among the curtains, wherever she went, there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen upagainst him (as some of them did), on purpose, he wouldhave made a feint of endeavouring to seize you, which wouldhave been an affront to your understanding, and would instantlyhave sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and it really was not. But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all hersilken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he gother into a corner whence there was no escape; then hisconduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not toknow her; his pretending that it was necessary to touch herhead-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity bypressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain chainabout her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she toldhim her opinion of it, when, another blind-man being inoffice, they were so very confidential together, behind thecurtains. 

Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were closebehind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved herlove to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she wasvery great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge's nephew, beather sisters hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Toppercould have told you. There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and so did Scrooge; forwholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on, thathis voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out withhis guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too;for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cutin the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge; blunt as he took it inhis head to be. 

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favour, that he begged likea boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. Butthis the Spirit said could not be done. 

"Here is a new game, " said Scrooge. "One half hour, Spirit, only one!"

It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephewhad to think of something, and the rest must find out what;he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the casewas. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a liveanimal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, ananimal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by anybody, anddidn't live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or atiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every freshquestion that was put to him, this nephew burst into afresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, thathe was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At lastthe plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:

"I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I knowwhat it is!"

"What is it?" cried Fred. 

"It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universalsentiment, though some objected that the reply to "Is it abear?" ought to have been "Yes;" inasmuch as an answerin the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughtsfrom Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendencythat way. 

"He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure, " saidFred, "and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at themoment; and I say, 'Uncle Scrooge!'"

"Well! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried. 

"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the oldman, whatever he is!" said Scrooge's nephew. "He wouldn'ttake it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. UncleScrooge!"

Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and lightof heart, that he would have pledged the unconsciouscompany in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scenepassed off in the breath of the last word spoken by hisnephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels. 

Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes theyvisited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stoodbeside sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and theywere patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and it wasrich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery's everyrefuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had notmade fast the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left hisblessing, and taught Scrooge his precepts. 

It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scroogehad his doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appearedto be condensed into the space of time they passedtogether. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remainedunaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearlyolder. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke ofit, until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey. 

"Are spirits' lives so short?" asked Scrooge. 

"My life upon this globe, is very brief, " replied the Ghost. "It ends to-night. "

"To-night!" cried Scrooge. 

"To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawingnear. "

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven atthat moment. 

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask, " saidScrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I seesomething strange, and not belonging to yourself, protrudingfrom your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it, " wasthe Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here. "

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children;wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They kneltdown at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment. 

"Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!" exclaimedthe Ghost. 

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Wheregraceful youth should have filled their features out, andtouched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelledhand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, andpulled them into shreds. Where angels might have satenthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. Nochange, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in anygrade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, hasmonsters half so horrible and dread. 

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown tohim in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, butthe words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lieof such enormous magnitude. 

"Spirit! are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more. 

"They are Man's, " said the Spirit, looking down uponthem. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, foron his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless thewriting be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching outits hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye!Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!"

"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Scrooge. 

"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on himfor the last time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"

The bell struck twelve. 

Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered theprediction of old Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, likea mist along the ground, towards him. 

STAVE IV: THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS

THE Phantom slowly, gravely, silently, approached. Whenit came near him, Scrooge bent down upon his knee; for inthe very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed toscatter gloom and mystery. 

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealedits head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visiblesave one outstretched hand. But for this it would have beendifficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate itfrom the darkness by which it was surrounded. 

He felt that it was tall and stately when it came besidehim, and that its mysterious presence filled him with asolemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neitherspoke nor moved. 

"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet ToCome?" said Scrooge. 

The Spirit answered not, but pointed onward with itshand. 

"You are about to show me shadows of the things thathave not happened, but will happen in the time before us, "Scrooge pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?"

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for aninstant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received. 

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembledbeneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand whenhe prepared to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, asobserving his condition, and giving him time to recover. 

But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled himwith a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind thedusky shroud, there were ghostly eyes intently fixed uponhim, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heapof black. 

"Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, "I fear you morethan any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purposeis to do me good, and as I hope to live to be anotherman from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speakto me?"

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straightbefore them. 

"Lead on!" said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night iswaning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Leadon, Spirit!"

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore himup, he thought, and carried him along. 

They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city ratherseemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of itsown act. But there they were, in the heart of it; on'Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed ingroups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfullywith their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrooge hadseen them often. 

The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Scroogeadvanced to listen to their talk. 

"No, " said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, "Idon't know much about it, either way. I only know he'sdead. "

"When did he die?" inquired another. 

"Last night, I believe. "

"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked a third, taking a vast quantity of snuff out of a very large snuff-box. "I thought he'd never die. "

"God knows, " said the first, with a yawn. 

"What has he done with his money?" asked a red-facedgentleman with a pendulous excrescence on the end of hisnose, that shook like the gills of a turkey-cock. 

"I haven't heard, " said the man with the large chin, yawning again. "Left it to his company, perhaps. He hasn'tleft it to me. That's all I know. "

This pleasantry was received with a general laugh. 

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral, " said the samespeaker; "for upon my life I don't know of anybody to goto it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer?"

"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided, " observed thegentleman with the excrescence on his nose. "But I mustbe fed, if I make one. "

Another laugh. 

"Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all, "said the first speaker, "for I never wear black gloves, and Inever eat lunch. But I'll offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come to think of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn'this most particular friend; for we used to stop and speakwhenever we met. Bye, bye!"

Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed withother groups. Scrooge knew the men, and looked towards theSpirit for an explanation. 

The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointedto two persons meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinkingthat the explanation might lie here. 

He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of business:very wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a pointalways of standing well in their esteem: in a business pointof view, that is; strictly in a business point of view. 

"How are you?" said one. 

"How are you?" returned the other. 

"Well!" said the first. "Old Scratch has got his own atlast, hey?"

"So I am told, " returned the second. "Cold, isn't it?"

"Seasonable for Christmas time. You're not a skater, Isuppose?"

"No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning!"

Not another word. That was their meeting, theirconversation, and their parting. 

Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that theSpirit should attach importance to conversations apparently sotrivial; but feeling assured that they must have some hiddenpurpose, he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on thedeath of Jacob, his old partner, for that was Past, and thisGhost's province was the Future. Nor could he think of anyone immediately connected with himself, to whom he couldapply them. But nothing doubting that to whomsoever theyapplied they had some latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every word he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe theshadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectationthat the conduct of his future self would give himthe clue he missed, and would render the solution of theseriddles easy. 

He looked about in that very place for his own image; butanother man stood in his accustomed corner, and though theclock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, hesaw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that pouredin through the Porch. It gave him little surprise, however;for he had been revolving in his mind a change of life, andthought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carriedout in this. 

Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with itsoutstretched hand. When he roused himself from histhoughtful quest, he fancied from the turn of the hand, andits situation in reference to himself, that the Unseen Eyeswere looking at him keenly. It made him shudder, and feelvery cold. 

They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure partof the town, where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he recognised its situation, and its bad repute. Theways were foul and narrow; the shops and houses wretched;the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys andarchways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offences ofsmell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and thewhole quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery. 

Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floorwithin, were piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secretsthat few would like to scrutinise were bred and hidden inmountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, andsepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by acharcoal stove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly seventy years of age; who had screened himself from thecold air without, by a frousy curtaining of miscellaneoustatters, hung upon a line; and smoked his pipe in all the luxuryof calm retirement. 

Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of thisman, just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into theshop. But she had scarcely entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came in too; and she was closely followed bya man in faded black, who was no less startled by the sightof them, than they had been upon the recognition of eachother. After a short period of blank astonishment, in whichthe old man with the pipe had joined them, they all threeburst into a laugh. 

"Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she whohad entered first. "Let the laundress alone to be the second;and let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Lookhere, old Joe, here's a chance! If we haven't all three methere without meaning it!"

"You couldn't have met in a better place, " said old Joe, removing his pipe from his mouth. "Come into the parlour. You were made free of it long ago, you know; and the othertwo an't strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah! How it skreeks! There an't such a rusty bit of metalin the place as its own hinges, I believe; and I'm sure there'sno such old bones here, as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitableto our calling, we're well matched. Come into theparlour. Come into the parlour. "

The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags. Theold man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod, andhaving trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night), with thestem of his pipe, put it in his mouth again. 

While he did this, the woman who had already spokenthrew her bundle on the floor, and sat down in a flauntingmanner on a stool; crossing her elbows on her knees, andlooking with a bold defiance at the other two. 

"What odds then! What odds, Mrs. Dilber?" said thewoman. "Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did. "

"That's true, indeed!" said the laundress. "No manmore so. "

"Why then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes ineach other's coats, I suppose?"

"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. "We should hope not. "

"Very well, then!" cried the woman. "That's enough. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these?Not a dead man, I suppose. "

"No, indeed, " said Mrs. Dilber, laughing. 

"If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked oldscrew, " pursued the woman, "why wasn't he natural in hislifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to lookafter him when he was struck with Death, instead of lyinggasping out his last there, alone by himself. "

"It's the truest word that ever was spoke, " said Mrs. Dilber. "It's a judgment on him. "

"I wish it was a little heavier judgment, " replied thewoman; "and it should have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Open thatbundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of it. Speak outplain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them tosee it. We know pretty well that we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe. "

But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this;and the man in faded black, mounting the breach first, produced his plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons, and a brooch of nogreat value, were all. They were severally examined andappraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was disposedto give for each, upon the wall, and added them up into atotal when he found there was nothing more to come. 

"That's your account, " said Joe, "and I wouldn't giveanother sixpence, if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?"

Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearingapparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair ofsugar-tongs, and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wallin the same manner. 

"I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's the way I ruin myself, " said old Joe. "That'syour account. If you asked me for another penny, and madeit an open question, I'd repent of being so liberal and knockoff half-a-crown. "

"And now undo my bundle, Joe, " said the first woman. 

Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenienceof opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff. 

"What do you call this?" said Joe. "Bed-curtains!"

"Ah!" returned the woman, laughing and leaning forwardon her crossed arms. "Bed-curtains!"

"You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings andall, with him lying there?" said Joe. 

"Yes I do, " replied the woman. "Why not?"

"You were born to make your fortune, " said Joe, "andyou'll certainly do it. "

"I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anythingin it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as Hewas, I promise you, Joe, " returned the woman coolly. "Don'tdrop that oil upon the blankets, now. "

"His blankets?" asked Joe. 

"Whose else's do you think?" replied the woman. "Heisn't likely to take cold without 'em, I dare say. "

"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" saidold Joe, stopping in his work, and looking up. 

"Don't you be afraid of that, " returned the woman. "Ian't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him forsuch things, if he did. Ah! you may look through thatshirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nora threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me. "

"What do you call wasting of it?" asked old Joe. 

"Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure, " repliedthe woman with a laugh. "Somebody was fool enough todo it, but I took it off again. If calico an't good enough forsuch a purpose, it isn't good enough for anything. It's quiteas becoming to the body. He can't look uglier than he didin that one. "

Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they satgrouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded bythe old man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation anddisgust, which could hardly have been greater, though theyhad been obscene demons, marketing the corpse itself. 

"Ha, ha!" laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing a flannel bag with money in it, told out theirseveral gains upon the ground. "This is the end of it, yousee! He frightened every one away from him when he wasalive, to profit us when he was dead! Ha, ha, ha!"

"Spirit!" said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. "Isee, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now. Merciful Heaven, what isthis!"

He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and nowhe almost touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath a ragged sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though it was dumb, announced itself in awfullanguage. 

The room was very dark, too dark to be observed withany accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedienceto a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room itwas. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight uponthe bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the body of this man. 

Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady handwas pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjustedthat the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger uponScrooge's part, would have disclosed the face. He thoughtof it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it;but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismissthe spectre at his side. 

Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altarhere, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thycommand: for this is thy dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hairto thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It isnot that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released;it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that thehand WAS open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike!And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sowthe world with life immortal!

No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, andyet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. Hethought, if this man could be raised up now, what would behis foremost thoughts? Avarice, hard-dealing, griping cares?They have brought him to a rich end, truly!

He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, awoman, or a child, to say that he was kind to me in thisor that, and for the memory of one kind word I will bekind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and there wasa sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. Whatthey wanted in the room of death, and why they were sorestless and disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to think. 

"Spirit!" he said, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!"

Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to thehead. 

"I understand you, " Scrooge returned, "and I would doit, if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I havenot the power. "

Again it seemed to look upon him. 

"If there is any person in the town, who feels emotioncaused by this man's death, " said Scrooge quite agonised, "show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!"

The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for amoment, like a wing; and withdrawing it, revealed a roomby daylight, where a mother and her children were. 

She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness;for she walked up and down the room; started at everysound; looked out from the window; glanced at the clock;tried, but in vain, to work with her needle; and could hardlybear the voices of the children in their play. 

At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurriedto the door, and met her husband; a man whose face wascareworn and depressed, though he was young. There wasa remarkable expression in it now; a kind of serious delightof which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to repress. 

He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding forhim by the fire; and when she asked him faintly what news(which was not until after a long silence), he appearedembarrassed how to answer. 

"Is it good?" she said, "or bad?"--to help him. 

"Bad, " he answered. 

"We are quite ruined?"

"No. There is hope yet, Caroline. "

"If he relents, " she said, amazed, "there is! Nothing ispast hope, if such a miracle has happened. "

"He is past relenting, " said her husband. "He is dead. "

She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoketruth; but she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and shesaid so, with clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the nextmoment, and was sorry; but the first was the emotion ofher heart. 

"What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of lastnight, said to me, when I tried to see him and obtain aweek's delay; and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoidme; turns out to have been quite true. He was not onlyvery ill, but dying, then. "

"To whom will our debt be transferred?"

"I don't know. But before that time we shall be readywith the money; and even though we were not, it would bea bad fortune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in hissuccessor. We may sleep to-night with light hearts, Caroline!"

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children's faces, hushed and clustered round to hear whatthey so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happierhouse for this man's death! The only emotion that theGhost could show him, caused by the event, was one ofpleasure. 

"Let me see some tenderness connected with a death, " saidScrooge; "or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left justnow, will be for ever present to me. "

The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiarto his feet; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here andthere to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. Theyentered poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he hadvisited before; and found the mother and the children seatedround the fire. 

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were asstill as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him. The mother and her daughterswere engaged in sewing. But surely they were very quiet!

"'And He took a child, and set him in the midst ofthem. '"

Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had notdreamed them. The boy must have read them out, as heand the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he notgo on?

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put herhand up to her face. 

"The colour hurts my eyes, " she said. 

The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!

"They're better now again, " said Cratchit's wife. "Itmakes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weakeyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. Itmust be near his time. "

"Past it rather, " Peter answered, shutting up his book. "But I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother. "

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in asteady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once:

"I have known him walk with--I have known him walkwith Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed. "

"And so have I, " cried Peter. "Often. "

"And so have I, " exclaimed another. So had all. 

"But he was very light to carry, " she resumed, intent uponher work, "and his father loved him so, that it was notrouble: no trouble. And there is your father at the door!"

She hurried out to meet him; and little Bob in his comforter--he had need of it, poor fellow--came in. His teawas ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who shouldhelp him to it most. Then the two young Cratchits gotupon his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, againsthis face, as if they said, "Don't mind it, father. Don't begrieved!"

Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly toall the family. He looked at the work upon the table, andpraised the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday, he said. 

"Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?" said hiswife. 

"Yes, my dear, " returned Bob. "I wish you could havegone. It would have done you good to see how green aplace it is. But you'll see it often. I promised him that Iwould walk there on a Sunday. My little, little child!"cried Bob. "My little child!"

He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If hecould have helped it, he and his child would have been fartherapart perhaps than they were. 

He left the room, and went up-stairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close beside the child, and there weresigns of some one having been there, lately. Poor Bob satdown in it, and when he had thought a little and composedhimself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to whathad happened, and went down again quite happy. 

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and motherworking still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindnessof Mr. Scrooge's nephew, whom he had scarcely seen butonce, and who, meeting him in the street that day, and seeingthat he looked a little--"just a little down you know, " saidBob, inquired what had happened to distress him. "Onwhich, " said Bob, "for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentlemanyou ever heard, I told him. 'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit, ' he said, 'and heartily sorry for your good wife. 'By the bye, how he ever knew that, I don't know. "

"Knew what, my dear?"

"Why, that you were a good wife, " replied Bob. 

"Everybody knows that!" said Peter. 

"Very well observed, my boy!" cried Bob. "I hope theydo. 'Heartily sorry, ' he said, 'for your good wife. If Ican be of service to you in any way, ' he said, giving mehis card, 'that's where I live. Pray come to me. ' Now, itwasn't, " cried Bob, "for the sake of anything he might beable to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this wasquite delightful. It really seemed as if he had known ourTiny Tim, and felt with us. "

"I'm sure he's a good soul!" said Mrs. Cratchit. 

"You would be surer of it, my dear, " returned Bob, "ifyou saw and spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised--mark what I say!--if he got Peter a better situation. "

"Only hear that, Peter, " said Mrs. Cratchit. 

"And then, " cried one of the girls, "Peter will be keepingcompany with some one, and setting up for himself. "

"Get along with you!" retorted Peter, grinning. 

"It's just as likely as not, " said Bob, "one of these days;though there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But howeverand whenever we part from one another, I am sure weshall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim--shall we--or thisfirst parting that there was among us?"

"Never, father!" cried they all. 

"And I know, " said Bob, "I know, my dears, that whenwe recollect how patient and how mild he was; although hewas a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily amongourselves, and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it. "

"No, never, father!" they all cried again. 

"I am very happy, " said little Bob, "I am very happy!"

Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, thetwo young Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shookhands. Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was fromGod!

"Spectre, " said Scrooge, "something informs me that ourparting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know nothow. Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead?"

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, asbefore--though at a different time, he thought: indeed, thereseemed no order in these latter visions, save that they werein the Future--into the resorts of business men, but showedhim not himself. Indeed, the Spirit did not stay for anything, but went straight on, as to the end just now desired, until besought by Scrooge to tarry for a moment. 

"This court, " said Scrooge, "through which we hurry now, is where my place of occupation is, and has been for a lengthof time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come!"

The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere. 

"The house is yonder, " Scrooge exclaimed. "Why do youpoint away?"

The inexorable finger underwent no change. 

Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and lookedin. It was an office still, but not his. The furniture wasnot the same, and the figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before. 

He joined it once again, and wondering why and whitherhe had gone, accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering. 

A churchyard. Here, then; the wretched man whose namehe had now to learn, lay underneath the ground. It was aworthy place. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass andweeds, the growth of vegetation's death, not life; choked upwith too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. Aworthy place!

The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down toOne. He advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom wasexactly as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw newmeaning in its solemn shape. 

"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, "said Scrooge, "answer me one question. Are these theshadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows ofthings that May be, only?"

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by whichit stood. 

"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, ifpersevered in, they must lead, " said Scrooge. "But if thecourses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it isthus with what you show me!"

The Spirit was immovable as ever. 

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; andfollowing the finger, read upon the stone of the neglectedgrave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE. 

"Am I that man who lay upon the bed?" he cried, uponhis knees. 

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again. 

"No, Spirit! Oh no, no!"

The finger still was there. 

"Spirit!" he cried, tight clutching at its robe, "hear me!I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I musthave been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if Iam past all hope!"

For the first time the hand appeared to shake. 

"Good Spirit, " he pursued, as down upon the ground hefell before it: "Your nature intercedes for me, and pitiesme. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows youhave shown me, by an altered life!"

The kind hand trembled. 

"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep itall the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and theFuture. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Iwill not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me Imay sponge away the writing on this stone!"

In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought tofree itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him. 

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fatereversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost. 

STAVE V: THE END OF IT

YES! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Timebefore him was his own, to make amends in!

"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!"Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spiritsof all Three shall strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley!Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this! I sayit on my knees, old Jacob; on my knees!"

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to hiscall. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with theSpirit, and his face was wet with tears. 

"They are not torn down, " cried Scrooge, folding one ofhis bed-curtains in his arms, "they are not torn down, ringsand all. They are here--I am here--the shadows of thethings that would have been, may be dispelled. They willbe. I know they will!"

His hands were busy with his garments all this time;turning them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making them parties to everykind of extravagance. 

"I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing andcrying in the same breath; and making a perfect Laocoön ofhimself with his stockings. "I am as light as a feather, Iam as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. Iam as giddy as a drunken man. A merry Christmas toeverybody! A happy New Year to all the world. Hallohere! Whoop! Hallo!"

He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standingthere: perfectly winded. 

"There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!" criedScrooge, starting off again, and going round the fireplace. "There's the door, by which the Ghost of Jacob Marleyentered! There's the corner where the Ghost of ChristmasPresent, sat! There's the window where I saw the wanderingSpirits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha ha ha!"

Really, for a man who had been out of practice for somany years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs!

"I don't know what day of the month it is!" saidScrooge. "I don't know how long I've been among theSpirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Nevermind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop!Hallo here!"

He was checked in his transports by the churches ringingout the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out hishead. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold;cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight;Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious!Glorious!

"What's to-day!" cried Scrooge, calling downward to aboy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to lookabout him. 

"EH?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder. 

"What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge. 

"To-day!" replied the boy. "Why, CHRISTMAS DAY. "

"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "Ihaven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Ofcourse they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!"

"Hallo!" returned the boy. 

"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?" Scrooge inquired. 

"I should hope I did, " replied the lad. 

"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy!Do you know whether they've sold the prize Turkey thatwas hanging up there?--Not the little prize Turkey: thebig one?"

"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy. 

"What a delightful boy!" said Scrooge. "It's a pleasureto talk to him. Yes, my buck!"

"It's hanging there now, " replied the boy. 

"Is it?" said Scrooge. "Go and buy it. "

"Walk-ER!" exclaimed the boy. 

"No, no, " said Scrooge, "I am in earnest. Go and buyit, and tell 'em to bring it here, that I may give them thedirection where to take it. Come back with the man, andI'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less thanfive minutes and I'll give you half-a-crown!"

The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steadyhand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast. 

"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. "He sha'n'tknow who sends it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim. JoeMiller never made such a joke as sending it to Bob'swill be!"

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steadyone, but write it he did, somehow, and went down-stairs toopen the street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer'sman. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knockercaught his eye. 

"I shall love it, as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, pattingit with his hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face! It's awonderful knocker!--Here's the Turkey! Hallo! Whoop!How are you! Merry Christmas!"

It was a Turkey! He never could have stood upon hislegs, that bird. He would have snapped 'em short off in aminute, like sticks of sealing-wax. 

"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town, "said Scrooge. "You must have a cab. "

The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle withwhich he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with whichhe paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensedthe boy, were only to be exceeded by the chucklewith which he sat down breathless in his chair again, andchuckled till he cried. 

Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued toshake very much; and shaving requires attention, even whenyou don't dance while you are at it. But if he had cut theend of his nose off, he would have put a piece ofsticking-plaister over it, and been quite satisfied. 

He dressed himself "all in his best, " and at last got outinto the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present;and walking with his hands behind him, Scrooge regardedevery one with a delighted smile. He looked so irresistiblypleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellowssaid, "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!"And Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithesounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears. 

He had not gone far, when coming on towards him hebeheld the portly gentleman, who had walked into hiscounting-house the day before, and said, "Scrooge and Marley's, Ibelieve?" It sent a pang across his heart to think how thisold gentleman would look upon him when they met; but heknew what path lay straight before him, and he took it. 

"My dear sir, " said Scrooge, quickening his pace, andtaking the old gentleman by both his hands. "How do youdo? I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind ofyou. A merry Christmas to you, sir!"

"Mr. Scrooge?"

"Yes, " said Scrooge. "That is my name, and I fear itmay not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness"--here Scrooge whispered inhis ear. 

"Lord bless me!" cried the gentleman, as if his breathwere taken away. "My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?"

"If you please, " said Scrooge. "Not a farthing less. Agreat many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favour?"

"My dear sir, " said the other, shaking hands with him. "I don't know what to say to such munifi--"

"Don't say anything, please, " retorted Scrooge. "Comeand see me. Will you come and see me?"

"I will!" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear hemeant to do it. 

"Thank'ee, " said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!"

He went to church, and walked about the streets, andwatched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted childrenon the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down intothe kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and foundthat everything could yield him pleasure. He had neverdreamed that any walk--that anything--could give him somuch happiness. In the afternoon he turned his stepstowards his nephew's house. 

He passed the door a dozen times, before he had thecourage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, anddid it:

"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to thegirl. Nice girl! Very. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge. 

"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'llshow you up-stairs, if you please. "

"Thank'ee. He knows me, " said Scrooge, with his handalready on the dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear. "

He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were looking at the table (which was spread out ingreat array); for these young housekeepers are always nervouson such points, and like to see that everything is right. 

"Fred!" said Scrooge. 

Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started!Scrooge had forgotten, for the moment, about her sittingin the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn't have doneit, on any account. 

"Why bless my soul!" cried Fred, "who's that?"

"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, Fred?"

Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when hecame. So did the plump sister when she came. So didevery one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderfulgames, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!

But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he wasearly there. If he could only be there first, and catch BobCratchit coming late! That was the thing he had set hisheart upon. 

And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. NoBob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eighteenminutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with hisdoor wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank. 

His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comfortertoo. He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with hispen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock. 

"Hallo!" growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, asnear as he could feign it. "What do you mean by cominghere at this time of day?"

"I am very sorry, sir, " said Bob. "I am behind my time. "

"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, sir, if you please. "

"It's only once a year, sir, " pleaded Bob, appearing fromthe Tank. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rathermerry yesterday, sir. "

"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend, " said Scrooge, "Iam not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. Andtherefore, " he continued, leaping from his stool, and givingBob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back intothe Tank again; "and therefore I am about to raise yoursalary!"

Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. Hehad a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for helpand a strait-waistcoat. 

"A merry Christmas, Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestnessthat could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on theback. "A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than Ihave given you, for many a year! I'll raise your salary, andendeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discussyour affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl ofsmoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy anothercoal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, andinfinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he wasa second father. He became as good a friend, as good amaster, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, orany other good old city, town, or borough, in the good oldworld. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he waswise enough to know that nothing ever happened on thisglobe, for good, at which some people did not have their fillof laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as thesewould be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that theyshould wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady inless attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that wasquite enough for him. 

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived uponthe Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it wasalways said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmaswell, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May thatbe truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Timobserved, God bless Us, Every One!