A CHRISTMAS CAROL (IN PROSE BEING, A Ghost Story of Christmas)<\/p>\n
by Charles Dickens<\/p>\n
(OCF editing – Part 18)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical<\/strong><\/p>\n family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a<\/strong><\/p>\n Glee or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who<\/strong><\/p>\n could growl away in the bass like a good one, and never<\/strong><\/p>\n swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face<\/strong><\/p>\n over it. Scrooge’s niece played well upon the harp; and<\/strong><\/p>\n played among other tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing:<\/strong><\/p>\n you might learn to whistle it in two minutes), which had<\/strong><\/p>\n been familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from the<\/strong><\/p>\n boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of<\/strong><\/p>\n Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the<\/strong><\/p>\n things that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he<\/strong><\/p>\n softened more and more; and thought that if he could have<\/strong><\/p>\n listened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the<\/strong><\/p>\n kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands,<\/strong><\/p>\n without resorting to the sexton’s spade that buried Jacob<\/strong><\/p>\n Marley.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n But they didn’t devote the whole evening to music. After<\/strong><\/p>\n a while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be children<\/strong><\/p>\n sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its<\/strong><\/p>\n mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was first<\/strong><\/p>\n a game at blind-man’s buff. Of course there was. And I<\/strong><\/p>\n no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he<\/strong><\/p>\n had eyes in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done<\/strong><\/p>\n thing between him and Scrooge’s nephew; and that the<\/strong><\/p>\n Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went after<\/strong><\/p>\n that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage on the<\/strong><\/p>\n credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons,<\/strong><\/p>\n tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano,<\/strong><\/p>\n smothering himself among the curtains, wherever she went,<\/strong><\/p>\n there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was.<\/strong><\/p>\n He wouldn’t catch anybody else. If you had fallen up<\/strong><\/p>\n against him (as some of them did), on purpose, he would<\/strong><\/p>\n have made a feint of endeavouring to seize you, which would<\/strong><\/p>\n have been an affront to your understanding, and would instantly<\/strong><\/p>\n have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister.<\/strong><\/p>\n She often cried out that it wasn’t fair; and it really was not.<\/strong><\/p>\n But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her<\/strong><\/p>\n silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got<\/strong><\/p>\n her into a corner whence there was no escape; then his<\/strong><\/p>\n conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to<\/strong><\/p>\n know her; his pretending that it was necessary to touch her<\/strong><\/p>\n head-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity by<\/strong><\/p>\n pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain chain<\/strong><\/p>\n about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told<\/strong><\/p>\n him her opinion of it, when, another blind-man being in<\/strong><\/p>\n office, they were so very confidential together, behind the<\/strong><\/p>\n curtains.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge’s niece was not one of the blind-man’s buff party,<\/strong><\/p>\n but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool,<\/strong><\/p>\n in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close<\/strong><\/p>\n behind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her<\/strong><\/p>\n love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet.<\/strong><\/p>\n Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was<\/strong><\/p>\n very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge’s nephew, beat<\/strong><\/p>\n her sisters hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper<\/strong><\/p>\n could have told you. There might have been twenty people there,<\/strong><\/p>\n young and old, but they all played, and so did Scrooge; for<\/strong><\/p>\n wholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on, that<\/strong><\/p>\n his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with<\/strong><\/p>\n his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too;<\/strong><\/p>\n for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cut<\/strong><\/p>\n in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge; blunt as he took it in<\/strong><\/p>\n his head to be.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood,<\/strong><\/p>\n and looked upon him with such favour, that he begged like<\/strong><\/p>\n a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But<\/strong><\/p>\n this the Spirit said could not be done.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Here is a new game,” said Scrooge. “One half hour,<\/strong><\/p>\n Spirit, only one!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge’s nephew<\/strong><\/p>\n had to think of something, and the rest must find out what;<\/strong><\/p>\n he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case<\/strong><\/p>\n was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed,<\/strong><\/p>\n elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live<\/strong><\/p>\n animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an<\/strong><\/p>\n animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes,<\/strong><\/p>\n and lived in London, and walked about the streets,<\/strong><\/p>\n and wasn’t made a show of, and wasn’t led by anybody, and<\/strong><\/p>\n didn’t live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market,<\/strong><\/p>\n and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a<\/strong><\/p>\n tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh<\/strong><\/p>\n question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a<\/strong><\/p>\n fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that<\/strong><\/p>\n he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last<\/strong><\/p>\n the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know<\/strong><\/p>\n what it is!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “What is it?” cried Fred.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “It’s your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal<\/strong><\/p>\n sentiment, though some objected that the reply to “Is it a<\/strong><\/p>\n bear?” ought to have been “Yes;” inasmuch as an answer<\/strong><\/p>\n in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts<\/strong><\/p>\n from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency<\/strong><\/p>\n that way.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,” said<\/strong><\/p>\n Fred, “and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health.<\/strong><\/p>\n Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the<\/strong><\/p>\n moment; and I say, ‘Uncle Scrooge!'”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “Well! Uncle Scrooge!” they cried.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old<\/strong><\/p>\n man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t<\/strong><\/p>\n take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle<\/strong><\/p>\n Scrooge!”<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light<\/strong><\/p>\n of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious<\/strong><\/p>\n company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech,<\/strong><\/p>\n if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scene<\/strong><\/p>\n passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his<\/strong><\/p>\n nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they<\/strong><\/p>\n visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood<\/strong><\/p>\n