(jHje Jfastyngton JieMfl
*-**- ?*> y? WASHINGTON. D. C., CHRISTMAS DAY, SATURDAY. DECEMBER 25. 3920. S^.^gV?&
-
(Tl)n
STAVE ONE.
tfARLKY'8 GHOST.
fc*?t^^^ARLEY waa dead: to begin with.
K There is no doubt whatever
TLj^.r?v:v" ^ about that. The register of his
burial Waa signed by the clergyJrr^Ey^^
man. the clerk, the undertaker, and the
SL? chief mourner. 8croo(e signed it; and
Scrooge's name wan good upon 'Change,
for anything he chose t? put his hand to.
A-* jsP.* W Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
This must be distinctly understood, or
jiSy*nothing wonderful can com^ of the vStory
I am going to relate. If we were not pery
/ Jm fectly convinced that Hamlet's Father
died before the play began, there would
be nothing more remarkable in his tak,nff
a stroll at night, %in an easterly wind,
upon his own ramparts, than there would
**e in anv othcr middle-aged gentleman
rashly turning out after dark in a breezy
spot? say Saint Paul's Churchyard for
9 instance?literally to Astonish his son's
weak mind.
Jjk d|W Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's
name. There It stood, years afterwards,
above the warehouse door; Scrooge and
? * Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge
and Marley. Sometimes people new to
the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and
sometimes Marley. but he answered to
^ ^r)35v both names: it was all the same to him.
1 ^ ?h- But was a tight-flsted hand at
' .''S? the grindstone. 'Scrooge! a squeezing.
wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching,
covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as
flint, from which no steel had ever struck
out generous Are; secret, and self-con^?jh^Al
tained. and solitary as an oyster.
7 Nobody eper stopped him in the street
to say, with gladsome looks. "My dear
Y Scrooge, how are you? When will you
come to see me?" Even the blind men's
dogs appeared to know him; and when
r'^^Lr" they saw him coming on. would tug their
owners into doorways and up courts; and
I1N A then would wag their tails as though they
|j H >y said. "No eye at all is better than an evil
Blfy/ eye. dark master!**
But what did Scrooge care? It was the
thing he liked. To edge his way along
the crowded path of life, warning all
human- sympathy to keep its distance,
r- vJHx! was what the knowing ones call "nuts"
jBl to Scrooge.
Once upon a time?of all the good days
in the year, on Christmas Eve?old
^ V Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house
It was cold, bleak, biting weather; foggy
withal; and he could hear the people in
thc court outside go wheezing up and
down, beating their hands upon their
Tyf breasts, and stamping their feet upon the
A. pavement-stones to warm them. The city
ht&Vr clocks had only just gone three, but it
wa3 ^uite dark already.
. \|/\: Arr.vC The door of Scrooge's counting-house
was open that he might keep his eye
JTtI upon his Clerk, who in a dismal little cell
beyond, a sort of tank, was copying let/pjf
try ters.. Scrooge had a very small fire, but
y% the clerk's fire was so very much smaller
that it looked like one coal.
"A merry Christmas, uncle! (Jod save
you!" cried a checrful voice. - It was the
voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upt
on him so quickly that this was the first
intimation he had of his approach.
"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"
He had *? heated himself with rapid
walking in the fog and frost, this neph>
ew ?' Scrooge's, that he was all in a
jf, *; . ' VjA glow; his face was ruddy and handsome;
y-^ his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked
i again.
"Christmas a humbug. uncle*' said
Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that,
* am 8ure-"
1J^;V"1 do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas!
y' -jjl What right have you to be merry? What
.?? reason have you * to be merry? You're
It? poor enough."
"Come, then," returned the nephew
EJ gaily. "What right have you to be disy"\ii
i mal? What reason have you to be mo/xTJ
[Jyy rose? You're rich enough."
tf Scrooge having no better answer ready
|| on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!"
again; and followed it up with "Hum/"
/> "X>on't be cross, uncle," said the neph"What
else can I be." returned the u'nJf-Krcle,
"when I live in such a world of fools
as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon
| merry Christmas! What's Christmas time
M A - ? to y?u bot a time for paying bills withV
> out money; a time for finding yourself s
year older, but not an hour richer; a time
lor balancing your books and having
every item in 'em through a round dozen
^jUL of months presented dead against you? If
jjjBiSSr 1 could work my will,", said Scrooge in^r^WTm
dignantly, "every idiot who goes about
' with ^Merry Christmas' on his lips should
be bolLed with his own pudding, and
buried with a stake of holly through his
heart. He should!**
7-^ "2^3 "Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.
XLiS, , "Meph^r!" returned the uncle, sternly,
fm Jl "keep Chirstmas in your own way and let
me keep it in mine."
"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew.
"**ut you don't keep it."
Ml *L*t me leaV6 4t alone, then." said
Scrooge. "Much good may it do you!
ft Much good it has ever done you!"
"There are many things from which
* ? 1 mighl have derived good, by which I
have not profited. I dare say," returned
"if the nephew: "Christmas among the rest.
^ And therefore, uncle, though It has never
^3*^ Put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket,
1'w^f 1 believe that it HAS done me good, and
WILL do me good; and I say, God bless
The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded;
becoming immediately sensible
of the impropriety, he poked the fire,
and extinguished the last frail spark foi
"Lct me hejlr enother sound from YOU,"
8ald Scrooge, "and' y^U*Tl keep youi
Christmas by* losing your situation."
jg/KjQ "Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine
/^ :Vyabff with us tomorrow."
Scrooge said that he would see him
yes. Indeed he did. 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?"
stmas (T
' 4
"Why did rou get married?" s?H
Scrooge.
"Bccause I fell in love."
"Because you fell In love!" growled
Scrooge, as If that were the only one
thing In the world more ridiculous than
a merry Christmas. "Good afternoon.
"Nay. uncle, but you never came to see
me before that happened. Why give tt as
a reason for not coming now?'
"Good afternoon," said Scfoogc.
"I want nothing from you; X ask nothing
of you: why cannot we be friends?
"Good afternoon," said Scrooge.
"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find
you so resolute. We have never had a
quarrel, to which I have been a party.
But I have' made the trial In homage to
Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas
humor to the last. So A Merry Christmas.
uncle!"
"Good afternoon!" said Scrooge.
"And A Happy New Year!"
"Good afternoon;" said Scrooge.
His nephew left tbe room without an
angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped
at the outer door to bestow the greetings
of the season on the clerk, who. cold as
he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for
he returned them cordially.
"There's another fellow," muttered
Scrooge, who overheard him; "my clerk,
with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife
and family, talking about a merry Christmas.
I'll retire to Bedlam."
This lunatic. In letting Scrooge's nephew
out, had let two other people in. They
were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold,
and now stood, with their hats off,
in Scrooge's office.
"Scrooge and Marley's. I believe." said
one of the gentlemen, referring to his.
list. "Have I the pleasure of -addressing
Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?"
"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven
years," Scrooge replied. "He died seven
years ago, this very night." ,
"We have no doubt his liberality is well
represented by his surviving partner,"
said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.
It certainly was. for they had been two
kindred spirits. At the ominous word
"liberality," Scrooge frowned, and shook
hiy head, and. handed the credential:
back.
"At this festive season of tbo year.
Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, taking
up a pen. "It is more than usually desirable
that we should make some slight
provision for the poor and destitute, who
suffer greatly at the present time. Many
thousands are in want of common necessaries;
hundreds of thousands are in
want of common comforts, Sir."
"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge.
"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman,
laying down the ^en again.
"And the Union workhouses?" demanded
Scrooge. "Are they still In operation?"
"They are. Still." returned the gentleman,
"1 wish I could say they were not."
"The Treadmill and the Poor L*w are
in full vigor, then?" said Scrooge.
"Both very busy. Sir."
"Oh! I waa afraid, from what you said
at first, that something had occurred to
stop them in their useful course," said
Scrooge. "I'm very glad to hear It."
"Under the impression that they scarcely
furnish Christian cheer of mind or
body to the multitude," returned the gentleman,
"a few of us are endeavoring to
raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat
and drink, and 'means of warmth. We
choose this time, because it is a time, of
all othrs. when Want is keenly felt and
Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you
down for?"
Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
"You wish to be anonymous?"
"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge.
"Since you ask me what I wish, gentle|
men, that Is my answer. 1 don't make
I merry myself at Christmas, and I can't
! afford to make idle people merry. I help
to support the establishments I have
mentioned; they cost enough, 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 had better do it. and decrease the
surplusi 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's enough for a man to understand his
own business and not to interfere with
other people's. Mine occupies me constantly.
Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Seeing clearly that it would be useless
to pursne* their point, the gentlemen
withdrew. Scrooge resumed ljis labors
with an Improved opinion of himself, and
Ip more facetious temper than was usual
> with him.
At length the hour of shutting up the
counting-house arrived. With an ill-will
Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and
tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant
clerk In the Tank, who Instantly
snuffed his candle out, and put on hia
hat.
"You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?*'
said Scrooge.
"If quite convenient. Sir.'*
"It's not convenient," said Scro'oge,
*and it s not fair. If I was to stop halfa-crown
for it. you'd think yourself illused.
I'll be bound T
The clerk smiled faintly.
"And yet." said Scrooge, "you don't
think ME ill-used, when I pay a day's
1 wages for no work."
The clerk observed that it was only
once a year. \
i "A poor excuse for picking a man's
pocket every twenty-fifth of December!"
' said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat tc
the chin. "But I suppose you must have
the whole day. Be here all the earlier next
morning!"
Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in
t his usual melancholy tavern, and having
read all the newspapers, and beguiled the
rest Of the evening with his banker's
i book, went home to bed. He lived in
; chambers which had once belonged to hia
deceased partner. Tbey were a gloomy
suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of
building up a yard, where it had so little
-t. -vl rtAn
aroi
; 1
I 4-> _
I
business to be, that one could scarcely
help fancying it must have run there
when it was a young house, playing at
hide-and-seek with other houses. and
have forgotten the way out again.
Now, It is a fact, that there was nothing
at all particular about the knocker
on the door, except that is was very
large. It is also a fact, that Scrooge had
seen it. night and morning, durina his
whole residence fh that place. Let u also
be borne in mind that Scrooge ha* not
bestowed one thought on Marley, sincc
his last mention of his seven-years' dead
partner that afternoon. And then let any
man explain to me. if he ran. how it happened
that Scrooge, having his key in the
lock of the door, saw in the knocker,
without Us undergoing any intermediate
process of change; not a knocker, but
Marley's face.
Marley's face. It was not in inpenctrable
shadow as the other objects*in the
yan| were, but had a dismal light about
it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It
was not angry or ferocious, but looked
at Scrooge as Marley used to look; with
ghostly- spectacles turned up on its
ghostly forehead.
As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon.
it was a knocker again.
To J&ay that ho was not startled or that
his blood was not conscious of a terrible
sensation to which it had 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,
before he shut the door; and he
DID look cautiously behind it first, as if
he half expected to be terrified with the
sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out into
the hall. But there was nothing on
the back of the door, except the screws
and nuts that held the knocker on; so
he said "Pooh. pooh!H and closed it with
a bang.
Scrooge was not a man to be frightened
by echoes. He fastened the door, and
walked across the hall and up the stairs;
slowly, too. trimming his candlc>as he
went. Half-a-dozen gas-lamps out of the
street wouldn't have lighted the' entry
too weU. so you may suppose that it was
pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.'
Up Scrooge went, not caring a button
for that; darkness is cheap and Scrooge
liked it. But before he shut his heavy
door he walked through bis rooms to see
that all was right. He had just enough
recollection of the face to desire to do
that.
Quite satisfied, he closed his door and
locked himself in; doubled-locked himself
in, which was n<ft his custom.. Thus secured
against surprise, he took off his
cravat* put on his dressing gown and
slippers and his nightcap, and sat down
before the fire to take his gruel.
It was a very low fire indeed; nothing
on such a bitter night. He was obliged
to sit close to it and brood over it before
he could extract the least sensation of
warmth from such a handful of fuel. The
fireplace was an old one, built by some
Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all
around with quaint Dutch tiles, designed
to illustrate the Scriptures. If each smooth
tile had been a blank at first, wAh power
to shape some picture on its surface
from the disjointed fragments of his
thoughts, there would have been a copy
of old Marley's head on every one.
"Humbug!" said Scrooge, and walked
across the room.
After several turns he sat down again.
The cellar-door flew open with a booming
sound and then he heardhthe no^se much
louder, on the floors below; then ooming
up the stairs straight towards his door.
"Xt'i humbug still!" said Scrooge. "1
won't believe it."
His color changed though, when. With
t
>rl6anwnt, made for
of tljc Classic Stor?J
out a pause, it came on through the heavy
door and passed into the room before his
eyes. Upon its coming in the dying
flame leaped up as though it cried "I
know him! Marley's Ghost!" and fell
again
1 Though he looked the phantom through
and through and saw it standing before
him; though he felt the chilling influence
of its death-cold eyes and marked the
very texture ?f the folded kerchief bound
about its head and chin, which wrapper
he had not observed before; he was still
incredulous and fought against hi* senses
"How now!'* said Scrooge, caustic and
cold as ever. "What do you want with
j nte T*
"Much!"?Marley's voice, no doubt about
it.
"Who are you?"
"Ask me who I WAS."
"Who W15RK you then?" said Scrooge,
raising his voice. "You're particular?for
a shade." He was going to say "TO a
shade." but substituted this as more appropriate.
"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley."
"Can you?can you sit down?"c asked
Scrooge, looking doubtfully at him.
"I can."
"Do it then."
Scrooge asked the question, because he
didn't know whether a ghost so transparent
might find himself in a condition
to take a chair and felt that in the event
of its being impossible, it might involve
the necessity of an embarrassing explanation.
But the Ghost sat down on the opposite
side of the fireplace as if he were
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 of your 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 of cheese, a fragment
of an underdone potato. There's more
of gravy than of grave about you. whatever
you are!*'
Scrooge was not much in the habit of
cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in hie
heart, by any means waggish then. The
truth is. that he tried to be smart, as a
means of distracting his own attention
and keeping down his terror; for the
specter's voice disturbed the very mar*
row in his bones.
"You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge
returning quickly to the charge, for ttu
reason just assigned; and wishing, though
it were only for a second, to divert th<
vision's stony gaze from himself.
"I do," replied the Ghost.
"You are not looking at it.," said
Scrooge.
"But I see it," sad the Ghost," notwithstanding."
"Well!" returned Scrooge. "I have bul
to swallow this and be for the rest of m>
days persecuted by a legion of goblim
all of my own creatiion. Humbug, I teli
you?hymbug!"
At this the spirit raised a frightful
cry. and shook his chain with such a dismal
and appalling noise that Scrooge
held on tight to his chair to save himsell
from falling in a swoon. But how much
greater was his horror, when the# phantom
taking off the bandage round Iti
head, as if it were too warm to wear Indoors,
its lower jaw dropped down upjor
its breast!
Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped
his hands before his face.
"Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition,
why do you trouble me?"
"Man of the worldly mind!" replied the
Ghost, "do you believe in me or not?"
ybj (Tl)arl
"I do," aid 8croof?. "I must. But why
do spirits walk the earth #nd why do
they come, to roe?"
"It is required of every man." the
Ghost returned.' "that the spirit yithin
him should walk abroad among his fellowmen
and travel far and wide; and If
that spirit goes not forth in life, it is
condemned to do so after death. It is
doomed to wander through the world?
oh. woe is me!?and witness what it cannot
share but might have shared on earth,
and turned to happiness!"
Again the specter raised a cry and
shook its chain and wrung its shadowy
hands.
"You are fettered." said Scrooge, trembling.
"Tell me why?"
"I wear the chain I forged in life,** replied
the Ghost. "I made it link by link
and yard by yard; I girded it on of my
own free will and of my own free will I
wore it. Is its pattern strange to TOUT*
Scrooge trembled more and more.
"Oh! captive, bound and double-ironed."
cried the phantom, "not to know, that
ages Of incessant labor, by Immortal
creatures, for this earth must pass into
eternity before the good of which it is
susceptible is all developed. Not to know
that any Christian spirit working kindly
in its little sphere, whatever it might be,
will find its mortal life too short for its
vast means of usefulnesa Not to know
that no space of regret can make amends
for one life's opportunity misused! 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 this to himself.
"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing
its hands again. "Mankind was my business;
thex common .welfare was my business;
charity, mercy, forbearance and
benevolence were, all, ray business. The
dealings of ray trade were but a drop of
water in the comprehensive ocean of my
business!"
It held up its chain at arm's length, as
I if that were the cause of all its unavailing
grief and flung It heavily u^on the
ground again.
"At this time of the rolling year," the
specter faid, "I suffer most. Why did I
walk through crowds of fellow beings
with ray eyes turned down, and never
raise them to that blessed star which
| ied the Wise Men to a poor abode! Were
there no poor homes to which its light
would have conducted me?*'
| Scrooge was very much dismayed to
| hear the specter going on at this rate,
j and began to quake exceedingly.
"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time
is nearly gone."
"I will," said Scrooge. "But don't be
hard * upon rae! Don't be flowery. Jacob!
Pray!"
"How is it that I appear before you
inji shape that you can see, I may ?ot
ten. 1 have sat invisible' beside you many
and many a day.''
aL w*.. not an agreeable idea. Scroogc
shivered, and wiped the perspiration from
his brow.
"That is no light part of my penance,'
pursued the Ghost. "1 am here tonight tc
warn you that you have yet a chance
and hope of escaping ray fate. A chancc
and hope of my procuring. Kbenezer."
"You were always a good friend to me,'
said Scrooge, "Thank'ee."
"You will be haunted." resumed the
Ghost, "by Three Spirits.*'
Scrooge's countenance fell almost a?
low as the Ghost's had done.
"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned,
Jacob?" he demanded, in a faltering
voice."
"It is.*'
"I?1 think I'd rather not," said Scroogc.
"Without their visits," said the Ghost,
"you cannot hope to shun the path 1
tread. Expect the first tomorrow when
the bells toll one."
"Couldn't 1 take 'em all at once and
1 have it over, Jacob?" hinted Scrooge.
"Expect the second on the next night
at the ^a.me hour. The third upon the
next night when the last stroke of twelve
has ceased to vibrate. Look to sec me nc
more; and look that, for your own sake
you remember what has passed betweer
us!"
When it had said these words, the specter
took its wrapper from the table, and
bound it round its head, as before
Scroogc knew this, by the smart sound
its teeth made, when the jaws were
brought together by the bandage. He ven,
tured to raise his eyes again and found
his supernatural visitor confronting hin
in ^an erect attitude with its chain wound
over and about its arm.
Scrooge Vlosed the window and exam,
ined the door, by which the Ghost hac
entered. It was double-locked, as b?
1 had locked it with his own hands and th<
1 bolts were undisturbed. He tried to saj
i "Humbug!" but stopped at the first syl
' lablc. And being, from the emotion h<
had undergone, or the fatigues of th?
day, or his glimpse of the Invisibl<
World, or the dull conversation of th?
[ Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, raucl
' in need of repose; went straight to bed
, without undressing and fell asleep upoi
the instant.
1
STAVE TWO.
t
. THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS
' ^&4liex Scrooge awoke, it was si
1 ?l// dark, that looking out of bed
he could scarcely distinguish th<
' transparent window from thi
' opaque walls of the chamber. He was en
| deavortng to pierce the darkness witl
his ferret eyes, when the chimes of I
' neighboring church struck the four quar
' ters. So he listened for the h8ur.
1 To his great astonlshm-nt the heav;
bell went on from six to seven, and fron
' seven to eight, and regularly up ti
twelve; then stopped. Twelve! It wa
' past two when he went to bed. The clocl
was wrong. An icicle must have got inti
' the works, Twelve!
, He touched the spring of his repeater
to correct Mils most preposterous clock
es iDicketis Ipg
Its rapid little pulse beat twelve and ^???
stopped. j jtfl \
"Why, It isn't possible." said Scrooge.
"that I can have slept through a whole
day and far into snother night, it Isn't
possible that anything has happened to fr*
the sun. and that it is twelve, at noon!" ^
Scrooge lay until the chimes had gone
three quarters more, when he remembered i^ff ^
on a sudden that the Ghost had warned ^';v!wi
him of a visitation when the bell tolled
one. He resolved to lie awake until the
hour was passed; and. considering that \
he could no more go to sleep than go to
Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution
in his power. ^
The quarten was so long that he was {
more than once convinced he must have
sunk into s doze unconsciously, and jVr.^' ./*"
missed the clock. At length it broke upon
his listening ear. \ i
"The hour itself," said Scrooge, tH- ,
umphantly, -and nothing else!"
He spoke before thr hour bell sounded, T 5^
which it now did with a deep. dull, hoi- j
low. melancholy ONE. Light flashed up jtQ
in the room upon the instant, and the 82
curtains of his bed were drawn.
The curtains of his bed were drawn
aside. I tell you. by a hand Not the curtains
at his feet, nor the curtains at his
back, but those to which his face was
addressed. The curtains of his bed were
drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up
into a half-recumbent attitude, found
himself face to face with the unearthly k. .*?* j \
visitor who drew them: as close to it as
I am now to you. and I am standing in
the spirit at your elbow.
It was a strange figure?like a child:
yet not so like a child as like an old
man. viewed through some supernatural /1\A
medium, which gave him the appearance
of having receded from the view, and be- J?y" iy^T|
ing diminished to a child's proportions.
Its hair, which hung about its neck and 1
down its back, was white as with age;
and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it. .~* ?
and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. IrA, H L
"Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded.
1
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past#" f
"Long past?" inquired Scrooge, observ* I Y^'^iy
ant of its dwarfish stature. L ^
"No. Tour past.** Srv
Terhaps Scrooge could have told anybody
why. if anybody could have asked
him; but he had a special desire to see I ly.IVSj
the Spirit in his cap, and begged him to
be covered. fv_, Mj
"What!" exclaimed the Ghoct. "would
you so soon put out, with wordly hands.
the light I give? *Is it not enough that
you are one of those whose passions made iVal ^
this cap, and force me through whole
I trains of years to wear it low upon my
brow!" RPlCO
Scrooge reverently disclaimed all loUn1
tion to offend, or any krowlrdge of havtng
wiHniJy -bonneicd" the s&nt m.t any J 3^ ( , 7
period of his life. He then made bold to L"D
inquire what business brought him there. fei
"Your welfare.** said the Ghost. Jfj?3 WTj
Scrooge expressed himself' much obligod.
but ceuld not help thinking thst ,1
a night of unbroken rest would have been ' *3^
1 more conducive to that end. The Spirit
' ! must have heard him thinking, for it
'said immediately:
j "Your reclamation, then. Take heed*" y 'kS~It
put out its strong hand as it spoke r
j and clasped him gently by the arm. Ty
pj "Rise, and walk with me!"
As the words were spoken, they passed
1 through the wall, afid stood upon an open u .-'^ 3
country road, with fields on either hsnd
The city had entirely vanished. Not a V
vestige of ft was to be seen. The darkness
and the mist hsd vanished with it,
for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with
snow upon the ground FtV;
"Good heaven!** said Scrooge, elasping - *
his hands togrther, as he looked about *" l|
1 him. "I was bred in this place. I was a
1 "Your lip is trembling." said the Ghost. k t f l^V
"And what is that upon your cheekT* |i| j
Scrooge muttered, with an unususl
* catching in his voice, that it was a pim- Kv'^sJD
? pie; and begged the Ghost to lesd him
> where he would. r |
.1 "You rccollect the way?" inquired the
I Spirit. &
"Remember it!" cried Scroogc with fcr- 1
. j vor?"1 could walk it blindfold."
II "Strange to have forgotten it for so 1^^^
. many years!" observed the Ghost. "Let a
I us go on." '/
{ They went to a door at the back of the If
. house. It opened before them, and dis- #
I closed a long, bare, melancholy room,
, made barer still by lines of pLaln d?al Jjjr
I forms snd desks. At one of these a lonely J*
boy was reading near a feeble fire; and
. Scrooge aat down upon a form, and wept
I to see his poor forgotten self as he used ,-V^-IS
Scrooge looked at the Ghost, and with
r a mournful shaking of his head glanced A
? anxiously toward the door.
e It opened, and a little girl, much young3
er than the boy. came darting in, and
e putting her arms about his neck, and \
? often kissing him. addressed him as her
x "Dear, dear brother." *
"1 have come to bring you home, dear
j brother!" said the child, clapping her tiny
hands, and bending down to laugh. "To
bring you home, home, home!" "f
"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy.
"Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. tfT%
"Home, for good and aU. Home, for ever MKv
and ever. Father is so much kinder than Ik yg*
he used to be, that home's like Heaven!
^ He spoke so gently to me one dear night
when I waa going to bed, that I was not T
> afraid to ask him once more if you might
" come home; and he said Yes, you should,
5 and sent me in a coach to bring you. And
- you're to be a man!" said the child, open
ing her eyes, "and are never to come
* back here; but first, we're to be together
1 all the Christmas long, and have the mer
nest time in all the world."
"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" ?r\
^ exclaimed the boy. ^XjT S
> She clapped her hands and laughed.
8 and tried to touch his head; but. being
c little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe
5 to embrace him. Then she began to cr.-v
him, in her childish eagerness, towsi Xf
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