A CHRISTMAS CAROL (IN PROSE BEING, A Ghost Story of Christmas)<\/p>\n
by Charles Dickens<\/p>\n
(OCF editing – Part 16)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the<\/strong><\/p>\n hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the<\/strong><\/p>\n jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges<\/strong><\/p>\n were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the<\/strong><\/p>\n fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in<\/strong><\/p>\n what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and<\/strong><\/p>\n at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass.<\/strong><\/p>\n Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as<\/strong><\/p>\n golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with<\/strong><\/p>\n beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and<\/strong><\/p>\n cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Which all the family re-echoed.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n He sat very close to his father’s side upon his little<\/strong><\/p>\n stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he<\/strong><\/p>\n loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and<\/strong><\/p>\n dreaded that he might be taken from him.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Spirit,” said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt<\/strong><\/p>\n before, “tell me if Tiny Tim will live.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “I see a vacant seat,” replied the Ghost, “in the poor<\/strong><\/p>\n chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully<\/strong><\/p>\n preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future,<\/strong><\/p>\n the child will die.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he<\/strong><\/p>\n will be spared.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none<\/strong><\/p>\n other of my race,” returned the Ghost, “will find him here.<\/strong><\/p>\n What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and<\/strong><\/p>\n decrease the surplus population.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by<\/strong><\/p>\n the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Man,” said the Ghost, “if man you be in heart, not<\/strong><\/p>\n adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered<\/strong><\/p>\n What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what<\/strong><\/p>\n men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the<\/strong><\/p>\n sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live<\/strong><\/p>\n than millions like this poor man’s child. Oh God! to hear<\/strong><\/p>\n the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life<\/strong><\/p>\n among his hungry brothers in the dust!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge bent before the Ghost’s rebuke, and trembling cast<\/strong><\/p>\n his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on<\/strong><\/p>\n hearing his own name.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Mr. Scrooge!” said Bob; “I’ll give you Mr. Scrooge, the<\/strong><\/p>\n Founder of the Feast!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “The Founder of the Feast indeed!” cried Mrs. Cratchit,<\/strong><\/p>\n reddening. “I wish I had him here. I’d give him a piece<\/strong><\/p>\n of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he’d have a good<\/strong><\/p>\n appetite for it.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “My dear,” said Bob, “the children! Christmas Day.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,” said she, “on<\/strong><\/p>\n which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard,<\/strong><\/p>\n unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert!<\/strong><\/p>\n Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “My dear,” was Bob’s mild answer, “Christmas Day.”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “I’ll drink his health for your sake and the Day’s,” said<\/strong><\/p>\n Mrs. Cratchit, “not for his. Long life to him! A merry<\/strong><\/p>\n Christmas and a happy new year! He’ll be very merry and<\/strong><\/p>\n very happy, I have no doubt!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of<\/strong><\/p>\n their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank<\/strong><\/p>\n it last of all, but he didn’t care twopence for it. Scrooge<\/strong><\/p>\n was the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast<\/strong><\/p>\n a dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full<\/strong><\/p>\n five minutes.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than<\/strong><\/p>\n before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done<\/strong><\/p>\n with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his<\/strong><\/p>\n eye for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full<\/strong><\/p>\n five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed<\/strong><\/p>\n tremendously at the idea of Peter’s being a man of business;<\/strong><\/p>\n and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from<\/strong><\/p>\n between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular<\/strong><\/p>\n investments he should favour when he came into the receipt<\/strong><\/p>\n of that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor<\/strong><\/p>\n apprentice at a milliner’s, then told them what kind of work<\/strong><\/p>\n she had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch,<\/strong><\/p>\n and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for a<\/strong><\/p>\n good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at<\/strong><\/p>\n home. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord some<\/strong><\/p>\n days before, and how the lord “was much about as tall as<\/strong><\/p>\n Peter;” at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you<\/strong><\/p>\n couldn’t have seen his head if you had been there. All this<\/strong><\/p>\n time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and<\/strong><\/p>\n by-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in<\/strong><\/p>\n the snow, from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice,<\/strong><\/p>\n and sang it very well indeed.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not<\/strong><\/p>\n a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes<\/strong><\/p>\n were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty;<\/strong><\/p>\n and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the inside<\/strong><\/p>\n of a pawnbroker’s. But, they were happy, grateful, pleased<\/strong><\/p>\n with one another, and contented with the time; and when<\/strong><\/p>\n they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings<\/strong><\/p>\n of the Spirit’s torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon<\/strong><\/p>\n them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty<\/strong><\/p>\n heavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets,<\/strong><\/p>\n the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and<\/strong><\/p>\n all sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, the flickering of<\/strong><\/p>\n the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot<\/strong><\/p>\n plates baking through and through before the fire, and deep<\/strong><\/p>\n red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness.<\/strong><\/p>\n There all the children of the house were running out<\/strong><\/p>\n