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Updated: May 27, 2025
"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 drawing near." The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.
There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel it himself, but this was clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.
Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with a softening influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears.
"It isn't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then?
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 the Spirit, 'who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us, and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived.
Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to 'Is it a bear? ought to have been 'Yes'; inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way. 'He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure, said Fred, 'and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health.
A merry Christmas and a happy New Year! He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!" The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the family.
And, in the very wonder of this, it would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever. 'Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me? asked Scrooge. 'I am! The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if, instead of being so close behind him, it were at a distance. 'Who and what are you? Scrooge demanded. 'I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.
He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them. 'I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, said the Spirit. 'Look upon me! Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur.
"And what is that upon your cheek?" Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would. "You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit. "Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervour; "I could walk it blindfold." "Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observed the Ghost. "Let us go on."
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