Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, andsitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had nooccasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke ofOne. He felt that he was restored to consciousness in theright nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding aconference with the second messenger despatched to him throughJacob Marley's intervention. But, finding that he turneduncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of hiscurtains this new spectre would draw back, he put them everyone aside with his own hands; and lying down again, establisheda sharp look-out all round the bed. For he wished to challengethe Spirit on the moment of its appearance, and didnot wish to be taken by surprise, and made nervous.

Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves onbeing acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal tothe time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity foradventure by observing that they are good for anything frompitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which oppositeextremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide andcomprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Scroogequite as hardily as this, I don't mind calling on you tobelieve that he was ready for a good broad field of strangeappearances, and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceroswould have astonished him very much.

Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by anymeans prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bellstruck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violentfit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quater of anhour went by, yet nothing came. All this time, he lay upon hisbed, 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 than adozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, orwould be at; and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be atthat very moment an interesting case of spontaneous combustion,without having the consolation of knowing it. At last,however, he began to think -- as you or I would havethought at first; for it is always the person not in thepredicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, andwould unquestionably have done it too -- at last, I say,he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostlylight might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on furthertracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking fullpossession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in hisslippers to the door.

The moment Scrooge's hand was on the lock, a strange voicecalled him by his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.

It was his own room. There was no doubt aboutthat. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. Thewalls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that itlooked a perfect grove; from every part of which, brightgleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly,mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so manylittle mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mightyblaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrificationof a hearth had never known in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, orfor many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on thefloor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game,poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, longwreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels ofoysters, red-hot chesnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicyoranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seethingbowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicioussteam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant,glorious to see: who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlikePlenty's horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light onScrooge, 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; and thoughthe Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meetthem.

``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 cheeryvoice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girdedround its middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was init, 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 of myfamily; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers born inthese later years?'' pursued the Phantom.

``I don't think I have,'' said Scrooge. ``I am afraid Ihave not. 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 mewhere you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and Ilearnt a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you haveaught to 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,

The house fronts looked black enough, and the windowsblacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow uponthe roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground; whichlast deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavywheels of carts and waggons; furrows that crossed and recrossedeach other hundreds of times where the great streets branchedoff; and made intricate channels, hard to trace in the thickyellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and theshortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist,half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended inshower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in Great Britainhad, by one consent, caught fire, and were blazing away totheir dear hearts' content. There was nothing very cheerful inthe 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 another fromthe parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball-- better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest-- laughing heartily if it went right and not lessheartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were stillhalf open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chesnuts,shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling atthe doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplecticopulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced,broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of theirgrowth like Spanish Friars, and winking from their shelves inwanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanceddemurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears andapples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunchesof grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence to dangle fromconspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis asthey passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown,recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods,and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves;there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off theyellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactnessof their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching tobe carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner. The verygold and silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in abowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race,appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to afish, went gasping round and round their littleworld 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 roller partedcompany so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up anddown like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents oftea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that theraisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremelywhite, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the otherspices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spottedwith molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faintand subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moistand pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartnessfrom their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was goodto eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were allso hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, thatthey tumbled up against each other at the door,crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchasesupon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, andcommitted hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humourpossible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank andfresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened theiraprons behind might have been their own, worn outside forgeneral inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if theychose.

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 baker' 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 kind oftorch, 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 shame toquarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so itwas!

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers' were shut up; andyet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners andthe progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wetabove each baker's oven; where the pavement smoked as if itsstones 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, ``Iwonder you, of all the beings in the many worldsabout us, should desire to cramp these people's opportunitiesof innocent enjoyment.''

``I!'' cried the Spirit.

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

``I!'' cried the Spirit.

``You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day?''said Scrooge. ``And it comes to the same thing.''

``

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

``There are some upon this earth of yours,'' returned theSpirit, ``who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds ofpassion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, andselfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all outkith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, andcharge their doings on themselves, not us.''

Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible,as they had been before, into the suburbs of the town. It wasa remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observedat the baker's), that notwithstanding his gigantic size, hecould accommodate himself to any place with ease; and that hestood beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like asupernatural creature, as it was possible he could have done inany 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 poor men,that led him straight to Scrooge's clerk's; for there he went,and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; and on thethreshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to blessBob Cratchit's dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch. Think of that! Bob had but fifteen

Then up rose Mrs Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out butpoorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which arecheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid thecloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters,also brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged afork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners ofhis monstrous shirt collar (Bob's private property, conferredupon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth,rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned toshow his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smallerCratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming thatoutside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it fortheir own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion,these young Cratchits danced about the table, and exaltedMaster Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud,although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, untilthe slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at thesaucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.

``What has ever got your precious father then.'' said MrsCratchit. ``And your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't aslate 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

``Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late youare!'' said Mrs Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, andtaking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.

``We'd a deal of work to finish up last night,'' repliedthe girl, ``and had to clear away this morning, mother!''

``Well! Never mind so long as you are come,'' said MrsCratchit. ``Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have awarm, 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

``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 coming uponChristmas 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 hemight 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 Bobhad hugged 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, thathe hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was acripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember uponChristmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind mensee.''

Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, andtrembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong andhearty.

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and backcame Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by hisbrother and sister to his stool before the fire; and while Bob,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 round andround and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and thetwo 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 goose therarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a blackswan was a matter of course; and in truth it was something verylike it in that house. Mrs Cratchit made the gravy (readybeforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Petermashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belindasweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bobtook Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the twoyoung Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgettingthemselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoonsinto their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose beforetheir turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on,and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, asMrs Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife,prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and whenthe long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur ofdelight arose all round the board, and even TinyTim, 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, itwas a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as MrsCratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of abone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet everyone had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular,were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, theplates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left theroom alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- totake the pudding up, and bring it in.

Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it shouldbreak in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got overthe wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merrywith the goose: a supposition at which the two youngCratchits became livid!All sorts of horrors were supposed.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of thecopper.A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like aneating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with alaundress's next door to that! That was the pudding. In half a minuteMrs Cratchit entered: flushed, but smiling proudly: withthe pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing inhalf of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmasholly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too,that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by MrsCratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now theweight was off her mind, she would confess she had had herdoubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something tosay about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a smallpudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy todo so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such athing.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, thehearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jugbeing tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges wereput upon the table, and a shovel-full of chesnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what BobCratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at BobCratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass; twotumblers, 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 chesnuts 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 ofall.

He sat very close to his father's side upon his littlestool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, asif he loved 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 neverfelt before, ``tell me if Tiny Tim will live.''

``I see a vacant seat,'' replied the Ghost, ``in thepoor chimney-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 himhere. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it,and decrease the surplus population.''

Scrooge hung his head to hear his wn words quoted by theSpirit, 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 what menshall live, what men shall die? It may be, that inthe sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit tolive than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hearthe Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life amonghis 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,the Founder of the Feast!''

``The Founder of the Feast indeed!'' cried Mrs Cratchit,reddening. ``I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece ofmy mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite forit.''

``My dear,'' said Bob, ``the children; ChristmasDay.''

``It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,'' said she,``on which 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 theDay's,''said Mrs Cratchit, ``not for his. Long life to him.A merry Christmas and a happy new year! He'll be very merryand very happy, I have no doubt!''

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first oftheir proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank itlast of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge wasthe Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a darkshadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full fiveminutes.

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 his eyefor 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 firefrom between his collars, as if he were deliberating whatparticular investments he should favour when he came into thereceipt of 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, andhow she meant to lie a-bed to-morrow morning for a good longrest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also howshe had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and howthe lord ``was much about as tall as Peter;'' at which Peterpulled up his collars so high that you couldn't have seen hishead if you had been there. All this time the chesnuts and thejug went round and round; and bye and bye they had a song,about a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim; whohad a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not ahandsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes werefar from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; andPeter might have known, and very likely did, theinside of a pawnbroker's. But, they were happy, grateful,pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and whenthey faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings ofthe Spirit's torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them,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 of theblaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot platesbaking through and through before the fire, and deep redcurtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness.There all the children of the house were running out into thesnow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles,aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again, wereshadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there agroup of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and allchattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near neighbour's house; where, woe upon the single man who sawthem enter -- artful witches, well they knew it -- ina glow!

But, if you had judged from the numbers of people on theirway to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no onewas at home to give them welcome when they got there, insteadof every house expecting company, and piling up its fireshalf-chimney high. Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capaciouspalm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, itsbright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! Thevery lamplighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky streetwith specks of light, and who was dressed to spend the eveningsomewhere, laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed: thoughlittle kenned the lamplighter that he had any company butChristmas!

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, theystood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses ofrude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-placeof giants; and water spread itself wheresoever itlisted; or would have done so, but for the frost that held itprisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse, rankgrass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak offiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant,like a sullen eye, and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, waslost in the 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 a glowingfire. An old, old man and woman, with their children and theirchildren's children, and another generation beyond that, alldecked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in avoice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon thebarren waste, was singing them a Christmas song : it had been avery old song when he was a boy; and from time totime they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raisedtheir voices, the old man got quite blithe and loud; and sosurely as they stopped, his vigour sank again.

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold hisrobe, and passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea?To sea. To Scrooge's horror, looking back, he saw the last ofthe land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his earswere deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled, androared, and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, andfiercely tried to undermine the earth.

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or sofrom shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wildyear through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps ofsea-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 made afire, that through the loophole in the thick stonewall shed out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joiningtheir horny hands over the rough table at which they sat, theywished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and oneof them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarredwith hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be:struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.

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 it was tomove on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss,whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a greatsurprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a heartylaugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recogniseit as his own nephew's and to find himself in a bright, dry,gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his side,and looking at that same nephew with approving affability!

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

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a manmore blest in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I can say is,I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I'llcultivate his acquaintance.

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, thatwhile there is infection in disease and sorrow,there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious aslaughter and good-humour. When Scrooge's nephew laughed in thisway: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his faceinto the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge's niece, bymarriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembledfriends being not 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 kindsof good little dots about her chin, that melted into oneanother when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes youever saw in any little creature's head. Altogethershe was what you would have called provoking, you know; butsatisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory!

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

``I'm sure he is very rich, Fred,'' hinted Scrooge'sniece.``At least you always tell

``What of that, my dear!'' said Scrooge's nephew. ``Hiswealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. Hedon't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't thesatisfaction of thinking -- ha, ha, ha! -- that he isever going to benefit Us with it.''

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

``Oh, I have!'' said Scrooge's nephew. ``I am sorry forhim; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers byhis ill whims? Himself, always. Here, he takes it into hishead to dislike us, and he won't come and dine withus. What's the consequence? He don't lose much of adinner.''

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

``Well! I'm very glad to hear it,'' said Scrooge'snephew,``because I haven't great faith in these young housekeepers.What do

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

``Do go on, Fred,'' said Scrooge's niece, clapping herhands.``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,``that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and notmaking merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses somepleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure heloses pleasanter companions than he can find in his ownthoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dustychambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year,whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail atChristmas till he dies, but he can't help thinking better of it-- I defy him -- if he finds me going there, in goodtemper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you?If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fiftypounds,

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shakingScrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured, andnot much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed atany rate, 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 a Glee orCatch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who could growlaway in the bass like a good one, and never swell the largeveins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it. Scrooge's niece played well upon the harp; and played amongother tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you mightlearn to whistle it in two minutes), which had been familiar tothe child who fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school, as hehad been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When thisstrain of music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shownhim, came upon his mind; he softened more and more; and thoughtthat if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he mighthave cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happinesswith his own hands, without resorting to thesexton's spade that buried Jacob Marley.

But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After awhile they played at forfeits; for it is good to be childrensometimes, and never better than at at Christmas, when itsmighty Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was first agame at blind-man's buff. Of course there was. And I no morebelieve Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes inhis boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between himand Scrooge's nephew; and that the Ghost of Christmas Presentknew it. The way he went after that plump sister in the lacetucker, was an outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumpingagainst the piano, smothering himself among the curtains,wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where theplump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you hadfallen up against him (as some of them did), on purpose, hewould have made a feint of endeavouring to seizeyou, which would have been an affront to your understanding,and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of theplump sister. She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and itreally was not. But when at last, he caught her; when, in spiteof all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings pasthim, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape; thenhis conduct 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 told him heropinion of it, when, another blind-man being in office, theywere so very confidential together, behind the curtains.

Scrooge's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party,but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, ina snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close behindher. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love toadmiration with all the letters of the alphabet.

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, andlooked upon him with such favour, that he begged like a boy tobe allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this theSpirit 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 nephew hadto think of something, and the rest must find outwhat; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as thecase was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he wasexposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, alive animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, ananimal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talkedsometimes, 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 a freshroar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he wasobliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plumpsister, 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 tendency thatway.

``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 the moment;and I say, ``Uncle Scrooge!''''

``Well! Uncle Scrooge.'' they cried.

``A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man,whatever he is!'' said Scrooge's nephew. ``He wouldn't takeit from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. UncleScrooge!''

Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light ofheart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company inreturn, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghosthad given him time. But the whole scene passed off in thebreath of the last word spoken by his nephew; andhe 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 stood besidesick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and theywere close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient intheir greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse,hospital, and jail, in misery's every refuge, where vain man inhis little brief authority had not made fast the door andbarred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scroogehis 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 passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered inhis outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scroogehad observed this change, but never spoke of it, until theyleft a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at theSpirit as they stood together in an open place, henoticed that its hair was grey.

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

``My life upon this globe, is very brief,'' replied theGhost.``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,''was the 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. Where gracefulyouth should have filled their features out, and touched themwith its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like thatof age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them intoshreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked,and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, noperversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteriesof wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him inthis way, he tried to say they were fine children, but thewords choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie ofsuch 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 the writing be erased. Deny it!'' cried the Spirit,stretching out its hand towards the city. ``Slander those whotell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make itworse! 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 noworkhouses?''

The bell struck twelve.

Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. Asthe last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the predictionof old Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemnPhantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along theground, towards him.