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圣诞颂歌 A Christmas Carol
作者：查尔斯·狄更斯
内容简介
 狄更斯不工诗，不谈玄，只是把小说的根基简简单单、扎扎实实地植于人性的大悲大喜、大是大非中：对善的无尽潜力始终抱定信心，对恶的危害也了然于胸。 狄更斯的好看是写给大众的。这或许也能解释，为什么同样是英国圣诞文学的佳构，罗伯特布朗宁名诗《圣诞前夜》之类，人气远逊于《圣诞颂歌》。后者让我们认识到：圣诞节不是一道吃鹅还是吃火鸡的客观题，而是一道反省人与人之间既然都是神的创造应当如何互相关爱的主观题。当且仅当斯克掳奇、小丁姆和那几只鬼合伙对我们发明这道题目的答案时，狄更斯才算发明了圣诞节。 

导读
为谁吟唱圣诞歌？
朱绩崧
 
我大学念英文。有位老先生来教，看我们不思进取，甩下句话：“你们也算懂英文？知道狄更斯（他老人家念作“狄啃诗”）吗？他写小说，堆在一起，喏，”说着，上肢大展，作太极单鞭状，“这么厚，我都读过！这才叫懂点英文。”就这样，查尔斯·狄更斯（Charles Dickens，1812—70）在我心中扎了个死结：既向往，又害怕。一晃十年，我惊喜地发现，图书馆里那套伦敦老版的“狄啃诗”先生大全集也没闲着：忙于积灰，已是蓬头垢面。抓个来借书的90后，问：《孤星血泪》[1]看过吗？答：春哥出新片啦？
哼，大不列颠可忘不了老狄。牛津、剑桥的文学教授们就会说：狄公挺特卓异，秀出群伦，洵为说部之莎翁。综观国朝名宿，唯劳伦斯（D. H. Lawrence）差堪比肩，若詹姆斯（Henry James）、康拉德（Joseph Conrad）之辈，终非匹敌也。而就算没《双城记》、《远大前程》、《块肉余生述》[2]和《匹克威克外传》，至少还有圣诞节，年年岁岁提醒着三岛的老老少少：还记得狄更斯谱写的那一曲《圣诞颂歌》（<i>A Christmas Carol</i>）吗？大概是耶稣基督总和个“淘宝”快递员大爷Santa Claus作伴，太寂寞，那就给添个说书的吧。三个男人凑台戏，热闹。
写圣诞故事，前有古人，不是狄更斯首创，虽然他自诩首创；盖棺定论时发现，那更不是他强项。有的文学史干脆直书“《圣诞颂歌》断非狄氏佳构”。偏偏这册小书一下子红遍大西洋两岸，那是1843年。2003年，美国有学者做了统计，结论是：迄今为止，“狄氏”全部作品中，媒体（包括舞台、广播、电视、电影、磁带、光碟）曝光率最高的，恰是这部“断非佳构”。近一百七十年来，这部中篇深受追捧，倾倒众生。以致有人分不清来龙去脉，谁成就了谁，居然喊出：是狄爷爷发明了圣诞节！
书的情节很小儿科：斯克掳奇（Scrooge）是个入门级资本家兼骨灰级吝啬鬼。他在圣诞夜活见了几只鬼。老鬼马利（Marley），没做鬼前，是跟他合伙做买卖的，此番担任“碧落黄泉”旅行社的营销总监；三只小鬼各管一摊，“地陪”着他先后游历了前世、今生和未来。他遂顿悟前非，圣诞节当日即大力扶贫去也，遂为好人如初。
这样一篇斯克掳奇“殿”的“野猪大改造”，轴心就在于主人公“预览”沧海桑田后实现的精神“重生”——研究文学的都会这么分析。但原理和隔壁张家阿婆昨夜梦见持老年卡坐公交车一路“绿”灯，今晨便赶去“国泰君安”狂抛垃圾股一样。这只铁公鸡“涅槃”后，之所以大张旗鼓“自改革”，这边走亲戚，那厢送火鸡，必定是深刻认识到：宁不知鬼大与鬼小，“重生”难再得。前尘往事，是张爱玲的一句“世钧，我们再也回不去了”。RP既已如此，若不加班抢种福田，那明月夜，短松冈，就是俺的下场。可别忘了，他本质是生意人，就一个字：精。让主人公经营一份小本买卖，想来老狄自有一片良苦用心。盖生意人，英国之土特名产也。所谓“小商小贩之国”，亚当·斯密《国富论》提过，后来“出口转内销”，硬塞到了让海军元戎尼尔森（Nelson）打得折戟沉沙的拿破仑嘴里，竟成了扫帝国威风的第一大“厥辞”。但十九世纪的英国，最富“英国性”（Englishness）者，舍生意人，其谁？
至于表现技法上有什么值得注意的，那就是让我们联想到了《神曲》里的但丁（Dante）、维吉尔（Virgil）、贝雅特里齐（Beatrice），或者《西游记》书里的唐太宗、崔判官、朱太尉。通过这种“异次元空间”导游服务，只是想奉告各位看官：因果报应，循环不爽。而且，这不是瞎讲讲的：活动是半官方，非正式（皇帝老儿有VIP待遇，可同十殿阎君开一趟峰会）；参观的都是live show，效果不知比cosplay好到哪里去了；最后也是最重要的，还负责护送客户安全抵家，偶尔会留下实物形式的“凭条”。和“85℃”门店提供免费试吃的手法大致相同，但目的截然相反：尝遍各色，诱尔多买西点；读通一篇，劝君少孳恶行。
※　※　※
虽说社会影响无尽的《圣诞颂歌》文学成就有限，可作为一部早期作品，它却很能反映作者日后的文化定位：鬼儿们调和Scrooge和Tiny Tim的矛盾；狄更斯调和富人和穷人的矛盾。试看书中桩桩不平之事：
（1）天冷，雇员要铲点老板的煤生火取暖，行吗（又不是偷菜）？老板说：你丫想跳槽是吧？
（2）恋爱，女方办不起嫁妆（放在今天，更别提合资贷款买房了）。男方说：没事，分手好咯。
（3）还债，“贷方”严厉催逼，女子只得剪下一尺青丝，去当铺“盘活资金”。
……
小戏一折一折，幕后那位无情无义的导演，他姓“钱”。而有势有权的制片人，就是英雄、狗熊并造的所谓“时势”了吧。“不患寡而患不均”，贫富两类，渐行渐远，由此互相看着不爽，富的嫌贫，贫的仇富，这是物质文明勃兴的并发症。呈现在文学中，或作苦大仇深，或为皆大欢喜。英雄居上，狗熊处下，狄更斯游走于中间，时高时低，潜亢颉颃。所以，《双城记》那段荡气回肠的起首，那种希望与恐惧熬炼出的浓情，非置身于他这位置（他的根据地始终是小资产阶级）不能一气呵出。但老狄到底是水瓶座，缺乏狮子座（如拿破仑）一腔暴力的热血，政治上“左”摇“右”晃，瓶子倒出墨水来，终究是要浇灭阶级仇恨的星星之火。他想让读者连同小丁姆（Tiny Tim）一起看到，斯克掳奇还不至于猪油蒙心，糊涂到“怪力乱神”都不信了。也就是说，虽然以此君为代表的某些有钱人很坏，但善根未萎，只须当头一瓶冷水，醍醐灌顶，包管天良复苏。无怪乎一针见血的奥威尔（George Orwell）会说：“凡成年人，读狄更斯，无不能感知到其局限性。”
有趣的是，正是局限性，成全了狄更斯一代盛名。与其说他文采风流，气度潇洒[3]，不如说是“日不落”帝国那八荒叱咤、四海宗盟的鼎盛“时势”需要一派贵贱齐乐、贫富共荣的后院文化，碰巧假他之手。1855年，狄更斯在一场《圣诞颂歌》朗读会后明确表态：定不负“座中君子淑女厚望”，誓将“雅俗文学熔钧一炉”，志作大众的“同志友朋”。他说到做到，拼命、“多线程”地写书、办刊、演戏、开作品朗读会——只落得寿期花甲，过劳早亡。与此同时，英语渐渐成了大众易读能懂的拉丁文，登堂入室，在巍巍学府中也开设了课目，英语小说借此东风，风靡一时。你且一个人闷头啃狄更斯，那几部引人入胜的小说竟是鼓吹“温良恭俭让”的价值观，末了还有念诵了千年的“阿门”作结。试问：你还有心思揭竿起义吗？是呀，斯克掳奇都能一夜之间摇身变作救苦救难的观音，连没钱都敢和姑娘“发生恋爱”[4]的外甥都认了，大英帝国还要革命做什么？有狄更斯，就有了金瓯永固，华胥长宁。巧得很，他本人与写《名利场》并自绘精美插图的萨克雷（William Makepeace Thackeray）素为同行冤家，后来场面上和解了，靠的还就是一册《圣诞颂歌》赠书。
换个视角，也能注意到：故事里的穷苦人，成年的个个有气节，是“倔强的萝卜”。女子决计不会去发廊、洗头房打工，赚鬻皮市肉的快钱。小丁姆更是可爱如人参娃娃，和摸钱包、偷手机、受“遥控”乞讨完全扯不上边儿。等待鬼使神差的救赎，须得秀出点“君子固穷”的风采，即基督宗教号召的“神贫”。因贫穷而堕落——可耻！狄更斯会在后来的小说里提醒世人。
※　※　※
喻宗教文学为宇宙，则劝人行善是火星。围绕着它，《圣诞颂歌》唱到如今，不曾销声歇响。读完这类作品，很把其寓意当一回事，自然会端正人生态度，不至迷失本我，放浪红尘。
奥威尔觉得狄更斯批评现实社会，逃不出道德范围，似颇不屑。本书势难入他法眼。然而，此时彼时，道德不都是一个繁荣的社会最需要用来维护和谐、保持稳定、谋求可持续发展的法宝吗？基于这一理由，我谨推荐本书给以下几类人群（恕有交集）雅读：
 
（1）有潜力骑“欺实马”的“富二代”；“一代”能加入进来，更是求之不得。
 
推荐理由：本书向为富不仁敲响了和声细气的警钟。
推荐指数：★★★★★
 
（2）中低收入阶层。
 
推荐理由：维多利亚朝的英国也有“张大民的幸福生活”。返躬自省，何苦甘为股疯，争当房奴？
推荐指数：★★★★☆
 
（3）带孩子看过金凯利（Jim Carrey）主演的迪士尼新片《圣诞颂歌》的家长及他们的孩子。
 
推荐理由：不是都很热衷于双语教育吗？为什么教（逼？）孩子读书仅满足于“Meet Sandy and Sue”，而放任“狄啃诗”委骨穷尘？且须知文字生形象，有时比形象更生动（金庸迷皆可作证）。用经典的文学来启迪稚嫩的思维，不失为教子义方。
推荐指数：★★★☆☆
 
（4）爱打电子游戏者。
 
推荐理由：说到电子游戏，70后到00后，没玩过的颇少，没玩够的极多。虚拟世界的惯性，无形但有力，有把现实生活冲击得支离破碎的动能。游戏的教旨和本书的哲学恰是背道而驰。前者的胜场，更是害处，在于培养玩家对一种低技术含量的“重生”的依赖：被爆头了？被秒杀了？——没事，存过盘了。相形之下，斯克掳奇的“重生”，不说历尽九九八十一难，至少也是提心吊胆，惊魂动魄，触景伤情，如此一宵三度，才换得来。读完本书，明白一个道理：人生，无盘可存。唯有珍重当下，方可确保“通关”。
推荐指数：★★★★★
 
（5）我在复旦英文系的学生们。
 
推荐理由：见下文。
推荐指数：★★★★★
 
（6）其他。
 
推荐理由：同上。
推荐指数：★★★★★
※　※　※
翻了翻伦敦“好的书多囤”出版社（Hodder & Stoughton）1911年印行的《圣诞颂歌》，看到传说中的插图名家A. C. Michael[5]几帧动人的作品。合上这本行将百岁的小书，算了算，我和我的第一个圣诞节也已经相去四分之一个世纪了：我上幼儿园时，圣诞节在中国尚属小众。某年12月24日夜，爸爸开到个“后门”，带我去教堂看“西洋镜”。有生第一次熬夜，第一次听唱诗班引吭，第一次瞻领弥撒，第一次看见圣诞老人——芸芸信众中，爸爸高高抱起我，好让我握到那位红衣白须老爷爷的手。我真的握到了。那种感觉，就是梁静茹说的：“感谢那是你，牵过我的手，还能感受那温柔。”次日睡醒，床头放着《圣诞颂歌》的连环画。根据爸爸的陈述，是圣诞老爷爷看我睡得香，悄悄爬进窗户来送给我的，而我袜子太小，书塞不下……时过境迁，或许在不久的将来，中国大陆的日历上，12月25日也会标注成公共假日吧。
上周末散课前，我对学生们说：下个月是圣诞节，大家回去请读Charles Dickens的<i>A Christmas Carol</i>。午饭时，我问其中两位：圣诞节对你们来说，可有什么意义吗？她们呵呵一笑：还不就是购物吗？我想：对哦，“来福士”给打折，“梅龙镇”有送券。此外，还可到“威斯汀”大餐一顿，去“钱柜”麦霸一宿。送礼的必须抓紧，表白的不妨提前。只是，细思量，这甜蜜蜜的圣诞节，对中国人，还有其他什么普遍的意义？我一时想不起。
所以，在这种为GDP而圣诞节，而圣瓦伦丁节，而感恩节，而复活节，而母亲节，而父亲节的历史语境中，文学的“王者归来”，应能起到一点补益作用，引领大众返本归真，一年里还能有这么三两天，放下手边的忙碌，填上心头的虚空，重温“信仰”的意义和“真善美”的价值。这也正是我给学生们布置这项阅读功课的区区用意所在。请别说我有鼓动他们皈依基督宗教之嫌，我自己尚是“雷人”（layman）一个。只是希望他们和我都能把“信仰”建立在“真善美”这块超越不同意识形态的基石之上。
因《纳尼亚传奇》（<i>The Chronicles of Narnia</i>）而渐为我国读者所知的刘易斯（C. S. Lewis）曾说：世上文人分二类。一如多恩（John Donne），诗言何物，了然于胸，故读其作，所知所解，无以复加；一如斯宾塞（Edmund Spenser），下笔不知所云，故读其作，如临渊照影，清不见底，洵为无尽藏也。[6]在我看来，老狄兼有这两类的特点，他不工诗，不谈玄，只是把小说的根基简简单单、扎扎实实地植在了人性的大悲大喜、大是大非中：对善的“无尽”潜力始终抱定信心，对恶的危害也“了然于胸”。和“文青”们敬畏若坛城本尊的乔伊斯（James Joyce）迥异，狄更斯的妙相庄严，金刚怒目也好，萨埵低眉也罢，都是献给普罗大众的。也许这样才能解释，为什么同样是英国圣诞文学的佳构，勃朗宁（Robert Browning）名诗《圣诞前夜》（Christmas Eve）人气逊《圣诞颂歌》多矣。后者让我们恍然大悟：圣诞节不是一道吃鹅还是吃火鸡的客观题，而是一道反省人与人之间——既然都（据说）是神的创造——应当如何互助互爱的主观题。当且仅当斯克掳奇、小丁姆和那几只鬼合伙对我们“发明”这道题目的答案时，狄更斯才算“发明”了圣诞节。
今年深冬，愿我们每一个人，都唱响《圣诞颂歌》，为我们每一个人。
扩展阅读
Dowling，David，ed. <i>Novelists on Novelists.</i> Atlantic，NJ：Humanities，1983.
Eagleton，Terry. <i>Criticism and Ideology：A Study in Marxist Literary Criticism.</i> London：Verson，1978.
Kucich，John. “Dickens.” <i>The Columbia History of the British Novel.</i> Ed. John Richetti. New York：Columbia UP，1994. 381406.
Miller，J. Hillis. <i>Charles Dickens：The World of His Novels.</i> Cambridge：Harvard UP，1958.
Orwell，George. <i>Decline of the English Murder and Other Essays.</i> Harmondsworth，Gt. Brit.：Penguin，1965.
Parker，David. <i>Christmas and Charles Dickens.</i> AMS Studies in the Nineteenth Century. New York：AMS，2005.
Paroissien，David. <i>A Companion to Charles Dickens.</i> Malden，MA：Blackwell，2008.

[1] 译制片，改编自《远大前程》，摄制于1945—46年，John Mills和Valerie Hobson主演，1948年获美国奥斯卡两项大奖和三项提名，为最早获得美国奥斯卡黑白片摄影奖和黑白片美工奖的英国影片。
[2] 此名为林琴南所译，今通作《大卫考坡菲》。
[3] 读读英美同行们，无论平辈抑或后辈，对他的评价，你会发现那不是狄更斯，那是个浑身土气的刘老根儿。当然，你也可以说是文人相轻，是三人成虎。
[4] 本版译者汪倜然先生（1906—88）是老辈文人，笔法忠实原著，淡然有古人风，部分白话堪称“五四”语言标本，给我印象最深者莫过此句。而其出注详明，钩沉抉隐，又足见治学谨严。
[5] 生卒年不详，1903—28年间，为众多儿童读物绘图，画风线条奔放，色彩浓郁。
[6] 我的老师陆谷孙教授刚来电邮说：“C. S. Lewis的评价向有争议，我对Donne和Spencer的看法与他恰好相反。”

初版本序
我在这本讲鬼的小书[1]里，竭力想召来一个“意念之鬼”，它决不致使我的读者们对于他们自己，对于彼此之间，对于这季节，或是对于我，感到不愉快。愿这个鬼愉快地出没于他们的屋子里，而没有人想要去驱除它！
他们的忠实的朋友和仆人
查尔斯·狄更斯
一八四三年十二月

[1] 这是狄更斯写的第一篇圣诞故事，也是他最著名的作品之一。这一年他目睹天寒岁暮，平民生活困苦，为唤起对于平民的同情，他创作了这篇小说，在圣诞节前出版。法国作家莫洛亚在他的《英国名人研究》的狄更斯篇中，开头写道：“一八七〇年当狄更斯的死讯传到英国、美国、加拿大和澳大利亚的家庭中时，人们就像死掉了亲人一样。一个小孩问道：‘如果狄更斯先生死了，圣诞爷爷是不是也会死呢？’”可见本书影响之大。

第一节歌[1]
马利的鬼魂
话说马利死了。这是毫无疑问的事。在他安葬的登记簿上有牧师、办事员、殡仪承办人和主要送丧人的签字。斯克掳奇在上面签了字。而斯克掳奇的这姓氏在交易所里是很吃得开的，不管他高兴着手干什么事情都行。
老马利已经像一只门钉似的死绝了[2]。
请注意！我的意思并不是说，我凭自己的知识，知道一只门钉会死绝到什么程度。我自己倒还是想把一只棺材钉当作五金业买卖中最死绝的东西。但是门钉这个比喻表现了我们祖先的智慧，我不应该用我这双不敬神明的手来窜改它，否则我们的祖国就要完蛋了。因此，请诸位准许我再强调地说一次：马利已经像一只门钉似的死绝了。
斯克掳奇是否知道马利死了呢？他当然是知道的。他怎么会不知道呢？斯克掳奇同他合伙做生意已不知道有多少年了。斯克掳奇是他唯一的遗嘱执行人，唯一的财产管理人，唯一的财产受让人，唯一的剩余财产受赠人，唯一的朋友和唯一的送葬人。斯克掳奇并不因为这丧事而感到极度悲伤，竟然在老马利落葬那一天仍然是一位出色的生意人，做了一笔挺上算的交易来举行这次葬礼。
谈到马利的落葬，我又得从头说起。毫无疑问，马利已经死了。这件事情一定要领会得一清二楚，否则，我下面要讲的故事就一点也不稀奇了。正好像我们若不是深信哈姆雷特的父亲是在戏开场以前就死掉的，那末，他夜里冒着东风漫步在自己的城堞上，也就同任何别的中年绅士在天黑以后鲁莽地出现在一个风飕飕的地方——比方说圣保罗大教堂的坟场吧——来吓唬吓唬他那个懦怯的儿子，一样地不足为奇了。
斯克掳奇始终没有把老马利的姓氏涂掉。好些年以后，货栈的大门顶上还是这几个字：“斯克掳奇与马利”。这家商行就叫做“斯克掳奇与马利”。刚做这行买卖的人，有时候把斯克掳奇叫做斯克掳奇，有时候把他叫做马利，但不管叫哪个姓氏他都答应。对于他，这反正都是一样。
咳，斯克掳奇这人才真是一个死不松手的吝啬鬼！一个巧取豪夺、能搜善刮、贪得无餍的老黑心！又硬又厉害，像一块打火石，随便哪种钢从它上面都打不出什么火星来；行迹隐秘，沉默寡言，孤单单的，像一只牡蛎。他心中的冷酷，使得他那苍老的五官冻结了起来，尖鼻子冻坏了，脸颊干瘪了，步子也僵硬了；使得他的眼睛发红，薄薄的嘴唇发青；说话精明刻薄，声音尖锐刺耳。他头发已经白得像霜一样，一双眉毛和瘦削结实的下颏也都是这样。他总是带着自己一身的冷气，人走到哪儿，就带到哪儿；在大热天里，他使自己的办公室冰冻起来；即使到了圣诞节，还是不让气温上升一度来解冻。
外界的转冷变热，对于斯克掳奇丝毫不起作用。无论怎样炎热都不能够使他温暖，无论怎样酷寒也不能够使他发冷。风随便刮得怎样凶，也比不上他的心那样狠；雪随便下得怎样猛，也比不上他求财之心那样迫切；淫雨随便下得怎样大，也比不上他那样从来不听人恳求。恶劣的气候简直不知道怎样才能制服他。即使顶猛烈的雨、雪、冰雹和雨夹雪也只有一点可以自夸胜过他。它们常常“出手”很大方，而斯克掳奇却是从来不会这样的。
在街上，从来没有人迎上他，用一种高兴的神情对他说：“亲爱的斯克掳奇，你好吗？你什么时候来看看我？”没有哪一个乞丐会请求他施舍一个小钱，没有哪一个儿童会问他现在是几点钟。在斯克掳奇的一生中，从来没有一个男人或女人向他问过去某个地方的路。连瞎子养的狗似乎都认得他，一看见他走过来，就赶快拖着它们的主人躲到门洞子里，或者跑进院子里去；接着它们还会摇摇尾巴，仿佛在说：“失明的主人啊，生着一双凶恶的眼睛，还不如没有眼睛的好！”
但是斯克掳奇才不在乎这一切呢！这种情形正是他所欢迎的。对斯克掳奇来说，在拥挤不堪的人生道路上，侧着身子一路挤过去，同时叫人世间的同情心都对他远而避之，这正是那些明眼人所说的“正中下怀”之事。
话说从前有一次——偏偏是在一年之中的这个最好的节日，圣诞节的前夜——老斯克掳奇坐在他的账房里忙着。天气阴寒砭骨，而且有雾；他听得见外面院子里人们喘着气在走来走去，用手拍着胸部，用脚在石板地上跺着取暖。城[3]里钟楼上的大钟刚刚敲过三点，但是天色已经很黑了。——这一整天就没有怎么亮过——附近那些办公室的窗子里，蜡烛光都已经在闪耀着，仿佛给这触摸得着的棕色空气[4]抹上了一些红颜色。雾从每一道隙缝和每一个钥匙孔里涌进来；在户外，雾浓得连对面的屋子（虽然只隔着一个极其狭小的院子）看上去也好像幻影一样了。看见这片阴暗的云雾低垂下来，遮蔽住一切东西，人们不禁要以为大自然就住在附近，正在那里大规模地酝酿着气候的剧变。
斯克掳奇账房间的门是开着的，因为这样他才可以时刻注意他的办事员，那人坐在外面那间像一只水槽似的阴森的斗室里，正在抄写信件。斯克掳奇屋子里生着一炉很小的火，可是办事员的那炉火比他的还要小得多，看起来就像是只烧着一块煤。他可没法加点煤上去，因为斯克掳奇把煤箱放在他自己的房间里；只要这办事员拿了煤锹进去，老板就准要预告说，他们看来非分手不可了。于是办事员只得披上了白围巾，尝试着好歹就在蜡烛上面取点暖；可惜他并不是一个想象力很强的人，他这番努力失败了。
“祝圣诞快乐，舅舅！上帝保佑你！”一个快活的声音说。说话的人是斯克掳奇的外甥，因为他来得这么突然，斯克掳奇直到听见他的声音，才知道他来了。
“呸！”斯克掳奇说。“胡闹！”
斯克掳奇的这位外甥，因为是冒着迷雾和浓霜匆匆赶来，走得很热，所以满面红光，脸儿又红润又漂亮；他的眼睛闪闪发亮，他的呼吸又冒起热气来了。
“圣诞节是胡闹，舅舅！”斯克掳奇的外甥说。“你的意思不会真是这样吧，我相信！”
“我的意思就是这样，”斯克掳奇说。“快乐的圣诞节！你有什么权利可以快活？你有什么理由可以快乐？你是够穷的啦。”
“得了，”他的外甥快活地回答说。“你有什么权利可以不快活？你有什么理由可以闷闷不乐？你是够富的啦。”
斯克掳奇一时想不出什么好的答语来，就又说了声“呸！”接着又是一声“胡闹！”
“不要怄气嘛，舅舅！”外甥说。
“我不怄气怎么办，”舅舅回答说，“我就生活在这么一个满是傻瓜的世界里！快乐的圣诞节！滚它的快乐圣诞节！对你说来，圣诞节不过是一个没有钱还账的时节；一个发现自己大了一岁，可是随着时光流逝并不多一点钱的时节；一个年底结账[5]，结果发现整整十二个月里笔笔账都闹亏空的时节；除此以外，还有什么意义？如果我的愿望能够实现的话，”斯克掳奇愤怒地说，“凡是跑来跑去把‘快乐的圣诞节’挂在嘴上的痴子，都应该把他跟自己的布丁一起煮熟了，再给他当胸插上一根冬青树枝[6]，埋掉拉倒。他活该！”
“舅舅！”外甥恳求道。
“甥儿！”舅舅严厉地回答，“你照你自己的方式去过圣诞节，让我照我自己的方式来过圣诞节吧。”
“过节！”斯克掳奇的外甥重复了一遍。“但是你并不过节呀。”
“那末，就让我不过节吧，”斯克掳奇说。“但愿这个节日会给你许多好处！它到底给过你多少好处呀！”
“有许多事情，我本来可以从中得到好处，可是我并没有去捞好处，我敢说，”他外甥回答。“圣诞节就是其中的一桩。但是我确信，我每逢这个节日到来的时候——且不说它那神圣的名字和起源所引起的崇敬，如果任何属于圣诞节的事情可以撇开这种崇敬不谈的话——我总是把它当作一个好日子，一个友好、宽恕、慈善、快乐的日子；据我所知，在漫长的一年之中，只有在这时节，男男女女才似乎不约而同地把他们那紧闭的心房敞开，把那些比他们卑微的人真的看作是走向坟墓的旅伴，而不是走向其他路程的另一种生物。因此，舅舅，圣诞节虽则从来没把丝毫金银放进我的口袋，我还是相信它的确给了我好处，而且以后还会给我好处；所以我说，上帝保佑它！”
待在“水槽”里的那个办事员禁不住喝起彩来。他立刻感觉到这是越轨的举动，就去拨弄那炉火，却把最后一颗微弱的火星都就此弄熄了。
“我如果听见你再哼一声，”斯克掳奇说，“那你就丢了你的饭碗，去过你的圣诞节吧！你真是一位蛮有力的演说家，阁下[7]，”他接着转身向着他的外甥说。“我奇怪的是，你怎么不进国会去。”
“不要生气，舅舅。来吧！明天来跟我们一块儿吃饭。”
斯克掳奇说他宁愿先看见他外甥……[8]是的，他的确是这样说的。他把这句咒人的话全讲了出来，说是他宁愿先看见他外甥死难临头。
“这是为什么呢？”斯克掳奇的外甥叫道。“为什么呢？”
“你为什么结了婚？”斯克掳奇说。
“因为我当初发生恋爱了。”
“因为你当初发生恋爱了！”斯克掳奇咆哮着说，仿佛这是世界上唯一比快乐的圣诞节更荒唐可笑的事情。“再见！”
“不，舅舅，即使在我结婚以前，你也从没有来看过我呀，干吗现在要把这件事作为不来的理由呢？”
“再见，”斯克掳奇说。
“我不需要你给我任何东西；我不向你要求任何东西；我们为什么不能友好相处呢？”
   
“再见，”斯克掳奇说。
“看见你这样坚决，我心里实在觉得难过。在我们两人的争吵里，我从来不是一个参与者。我如今作这次尝试，是为了向圣诞节表示敬意，所以我一定要把我的圣诞节欢乐心情保持到底。我还是要祝你圣诞快乐，舅舅！”
“再见！”斯克掳奇说。
“并祝新年快乐！”
“再见！”斯克掳奇说。
然而他外甥还是不说一句生气的话，就离开了这房间。他在外面门口停了一下，向那办事员致以节日的祝贺，而那人虽则身上寒冷，心里却比斯克掳奇温暖得多，因为他满腔热诚地回答他的祝贺。
“又是一个这号人，”斯克掳奇偷听到他的答话，嘀咕道，“我这个办事员，一个礼拜赚十五个先令，有老婆和一家子人，却还在说什么圣诞快乐。我真要躲进疯人院[9]去啦。”
这个疯子放斯克掳奇的外甥出去时，同时放了另外两个人进来。他们都是肥头胖耳的绅士，看起来很够味儿；这时都脱下了帽子，站在斯克掳奇的办公室里。他们手里拿着簿册和一些纸张，向他鞠躬致意。
“是斯克掳奇与马利商行吧，我相信，”绅士中的一个说，参看着他手中的那张表。“请问阁下是斯克掳奇先生，还是马利先生？”
“马利先生已经死了七年啦，”斯克掳奇回答。“他是七年前去世的，就在今天这样的圣诞夜。”
“我们深信，这位健在的合伙老板的慷慨之心一定不下于他的，”这位绅士说，一面拿出证明文件来。
这倒确实如此；因为他们一直就是两个性格相同的人。一听见“慷慨”这个不祥的字眼，斯克掳奇就眉头一皱，摇摇头，把证明书还给了他。
“逢到一年之中的这个节日，斯克掳奇先生，”这绅士说，拿起一枝笔来，“我们就格外需要替那些穷苦人，稍微提供一点补助物品，因为他们目前受苦受得很厉害。成千上万的人缺乏日用必需品；几十万人缺乏生活福利上所需要的东西，先生。”
“难道没有监狱么？”斯克掳奇问。
“监狱多得很，”那绅士说，又把笔放下来。
“还有恤贫局办的贫民习艺所[10]呢？”斯克掳奇问。“现在还办不办？”
“都办的。可是，”这绅士回答，“我但愿能够说一声，它们都不办了。”
“那末，踏车[11]和济贫法[12]现在还都在发挥充分的威力啰？”斯克掳奇说。
“两者都忙个不停，先生。”
“哦！我起先听了你的话，还生怕发生了什么事情，使它们不能够进行这种有益的工作，”斯克掳奇说。“现在听你这样讲，我就放心了。”
“我们因为认识到，它们对于大众几乎无法提供什么基督教式的、精神上和肉体上的愉快，”那绅士答道，“我们这几个人才正在努力想筹集一笔钱来给穷人们买一点肉、酒以及御寒的东西。我们选择这个时节，是因为这时节穷人们最感到困苦拮据，而有钱人最兴高采烈。我给您写上多少？”
“什么也不要写！”斯克掳奇回答。
“您是想要匿名？”
“我想要不受打搅，”斯克掳奇说。“既然你问我想要什么，先生们，这就是我的答复。我自己在圣诞节不寻欢作乐，我也没那么多钱来让懒汉们寻欢作乐。我帮着维持刚才我提到过的那几个机构，它们要的钱已经够多的了；那些景况不好的人都应该到那里去。”
“有许多人不能到那里去；还有许多人宁死也不肯去。”
“如果他们宁愿死的话，”斯克掳奇说。“他们还是死掉的好，同时还可以减少过剩的人口。况且——对不起——我不了解这种事情。”
“但你也许是了解的，”那位绅士说。
“那不关我的事，”斯克掳奇回答。“一个人管好他自己的事情，别去干涉别人的事情，也就足够了。我自己的事情一直使我够忙的。再见，先生们！”
这两个绅士清清楚楚地看出，再说下去也还是没有结果的，就告辞了。斯克掳奇继续做他的事情，对于自己更加满意了，而且情绪也比往常轻松了。
这时候，雾更浓了，夜色也更黑了，有些人拿着耀眼的火把[13]跑来跑去，为人们照明。他们走在马车的马匹前面，给这些马车带路。礼拜堂的古老的钟楼已经看不见了，里面有一口声音粗粝的老钟，老是从墙上一个哥特式[14]的窗子里偷偷地向下看着斯克掳奇，它在云端里报时和报刻，敲过以后发出一阵颤抖的尾音，仿佛它的头伸在高空里，给冻坏了，牙齿在打战。寒气更酷烈了。在大街上，院子的转角处，有几个工人正在修理煤气管，在火盆里生起了熊熊的一大堆火，一群衣衫褴褛的大人和小孩围在这火盆的周围，暖和暖和他们的手，兴高采烈地冲着火光眨眼。水龙头呢，因为这时没人去睬它了，它那溢出的水愤懑地冻结起来，变成厌恨人类的冰块。店铺里灯火明亮，人们经过时，苍白的脸给照得红彤彤的。冬青树的枝条和红果，给橱窗里的灯光烘得哔剥作响。家禽铺和杂货店里的生意成为一种绝妙的赏心乐事，一种壮丽的庆祝大典，人们简直无法相信，那种乏味的讨价还价和廉价出售的原则会跟它有什么相干。市长[15]大人在他那高大府邸的壁垒里，命令他的五十名厨子和管家把圣诞节过得像市长府邸应当过的那样。连那小裁缝，上星期一因为喝醉了酒在街上打架，被市长罚款五先令，这时也在他的阁楼里搅着明天要吃的布丁；他那瘦小的老婆呢，带着娃娃上街去买牛肉了。
雾更加浓了，天更加冷了，冷得彻骨切肤，无孔不入。如果仁慈的圣邓斯丹[16]不用他那使惯的武器，而用一点儿这样的寒气来钳住恶魔的鼻子，这恶魔也一定会有强烈的理由大声叫嚷！有个小孩子，瘦削的鼻子给这饿慌了的寒风咬住了咀嚼着，像狗啃骨头似的，这时正蹲下身来，凑着斯克掳奇门上的钥匙孔，献唱一支圣诞欢歌；但是斯克掳奇一听见歌儿的开端：
 
上帝保佑你，快乐的先生！
愿你一切如意，无忧无虑！[17]
 
他就马上抓起戒尺，动作极其迅猛，吓得那唱歌的人慌忙逃走，让迷雾以及与之臭味相投的寒气钻进钥匙孔去。
最后，账房间关门的时候到了。斯克掳奇才不乐意地从圆凳上爬下来，对那在“水槽”里等待下班的办事员默认时间已经到了，那办事员便立刻剪熄了蜡烛，戴上了帽子。
“我看你明天想歇一整天吧？”斯克掳奇说。
“如果方便的话，先生。”
“不方便，”斯克掳奇说，“而且也不公平。如果我因为这个缘故，扣掉你半个克朗[18]，你不就要以为自己吃亏了么？这我可以保证。”
办事员勉强地笑笑。
“然而，”斯克掳奇说，“我付了一天的工资，没有人替我工作，你倒不认为我吃亏了。”
办事员说，这只不过是一年一次嘛。
“每逢十二月廿五，就要扒掉人家一笔钱，这实在不成其为借口！”斯克掳奇说着，把大衣直扣到下颌边。“但是我看你是非要一整天不可的啰。后天早晨可要来得更早些！”
办事员答应他一定来得更早些，斯克掳奇就抱怨一声，走了出去。一眨眼工夫，账房间的门关上了，办事员便围上白围巾，围巾两头一直挂到腰下面（因为他没有大衣可以夸耀），他跑到康希尔街结了冰发滑的人行道上，跟在一长行小孩的末尾，溜了二十遍，用以庆祝这个圣诞节前夜，然后用最快的速度，跑回到堪姆登镇[19]自己家里，好去玩捉迷藏游戏。
斯克掳奇呢，在他去惯的那家凄凉的小客店里，吃了他那顿凄凉的晚餐；他把所有的报纸全读过了，并且把晚上其余的时间消磨在他的银行账目上之后，才回家去睡觉。他所住的这几个房间，从前是属于他那已故的合伙人的。这是一套阴暗的房间，在院子后面一幢阴郁的建筑内。这幢房子跟这个院子毫不相干，人们不禁会想象：它一定是在它还是新房子的时候，跟别的房子玩捉迷藏，跑到那儿去了，就此忘掉出来的路径。它现在已经老得很了，而且凄惨得很，除了斯克掳奇之外，没有别人住在里头，别的房间都租出去作为办公室了。院子里黑得很，斯克掳奇虽然连那里的每一块石头都很熟悉，也不得不用手摸索着走。在那漆黑古老的大门上，霜厚雾浓，看起来好像气候之神就坐在门槛上静默志哀。
   
事实上，说起门上的那个门环，它除了很大之外，并没有什么特别的地方。而且，这也是事实，在斯克掳奇居住在这地方的整个时期里，他每天早晚都看见这个门环；何况他也像伦敦城里的任何人一样——说句大胆的话，甚至连市府当局、长老议员[20]和那些穿制服的人[21]在内——是一个很少有所谓幻想的人。此外我们还得记住，斯克掳奇自从那天下午提到他那死去了七年的合伙人以来，还没有再想到过马利。那末，如果有哪一位能够解释个中道理的，就请他来解释给我听吧：怎么搞的，当斯克掳奇把他的钥匙插入门上的锁孔时，这期间那门环本身一点儿也没有发生过变化，然而斯克掳奇看见的却不是一个门环，而竟是马利的脸儿。
马利的脸。它不像院子里其他的东西那样，笼罩在深不可测的阴影里头，而是带着一种惨淡的亮光，好像黑暗地窖里的一只腐烂的龙虾。那张脸既不在生气，也并不狰狞可怕，只是对斯克掳奇看着，像马利生前看他那样，一副鬼相的眼镜架在他鬼相的额角上。头发在古怪地飘动着，仿佛是被呼吸或热气吹拂着；而且，两只眼睛虽然是大张着的，却一动也不动。这种神情，再加上它那青灰的肤色，使得它狰狞可怕；但它的可怕，与其说是它自身表情的一部分，还不如说是它自己无法控制的脸相。
当斯克掳奇紧盯着这怪现象看时，它又变成一个门环了。
如果说斯克掳奇并不惊骇，或者说他的血脉里并没有产生自出娘胎以来从未有过的恐怖之感，那未免不符事实。可是他把手又搁在他刚才放开的钥匙上，用力把它转了一下，就开门进去，把蜡烛点起来。
他的确站住了，踌躇了片刻，才关上大门。他也的确先小心地对门背后望望，仿佛他多少在期待会看见马利的辫子[22]伸进穿堂，使他自己大吃一惊。但是门背后什么东西都没有，只有那钉住门环的螺钉和螺帽，因此他说了两声“呸，呸！”就嘭的一声把门关上了。
关门声像打雷似的在全屋里产生了回响。楼上的每一个房间和下面酒商地窖里的每一个酒桶，都似乎各自发出一阵轰隆隆的回声。斯克掳奇并不是一个会被回声吓住的人。他闩上了门，走过穿堂，走上楼去，还是慢吞吞地边走边修剪着烛芯。
你也许会含混地谈到：驾一部六匹马的大马车，驶上一道古老的楼梯，或者冲破国会里新通过的一道坏法案[23]；但是我的意思是说，你大可以把一辆柩车驶上这道楼梯，而且是横着上去，车辆的横木对着墙壁，车后的门对着栏杆，而且可以轻易地做到这一点。那楼梯的宽度足够让人这样做，而且地位还有多余；也许就是因为这个缘故，斯克掳奇才自以为看见一辆机动柩车，在幽暗中在他面前行驶着。外边街上的六七盏煤气灯都不会把这条过道照得很亮，因此你可想而知，单靠斯克掳奇的一支小蜡烛头，这里当然是很暗的。
斯克掳奇还是往上走，丝毫不理会这一点。黑暗不用费钱，所以斯克掳奇喜欢黑暗。但是他在把他那扇沉重的房门关上以前，先在几个房间里走了一遍，看看一切是否都对头。他还相当记得那张脸儿，所以要这样做一下。
起居室、卧室、杂物室，都依然如故。台子底下没有人；沙发底下没有人；壁炉里生着一堆小火；汤瓢和餐盆都已准备好；一小锅燕麦粥（斯克掳奇的脑袋着了点凉）搁在炉边的保温铁架上。床铺底下没有人；壁橱里没有人；他的晨衣挂在墙上，模样颇为可疑，但是里面也没有人。杂物室跟平时一样。一块旧炉栅、几双旧鞋子、两只鱼篓子、一个三只脚的脸盆架以及一根拨火棒。
对一切都觉得放心之后，他便关上房门，把自己反锁在里面；用双重锁把自己反锁在里面，这可是一反他向来的习惯的。这样部署妥当，不会有遭受突然袭击的危险了，他才解下领巾，穿上晨衣和拖鞋，戴上睡帽，在壁炉前坐下来，吃他的燕麦粥。
壁炉里的火确实非常微弱；在这么一个寒冷的夜间，这点火起不了什么作用。他只得靠近壁炉坐着，并且俯身在炉火上，才能从这一点点燃料上得到极细微的温暖。这壁炉是个古老的东西，是很久以前一个荷兰商人造的，周围砌着古色古香的荷兰瓷砖，上面的图画描绘了《圣经》中的一些故事。砖上有该隐和亚伯、法老的女儿们、希巴女王、驾着鸭绒垫般的云朵从空中下降的天使们、亚伯拉罕、伯沙撒[24]、乘着黄油碟子般的船只出海的使徒们，一共有几百个人物来吸引他的注意力；然而死了七年的马利的脸儿，却像古先知的杖[25]似地出现，把其他人物全都吞没了。如果每一块光滑的瓷砖起先都是空白的，却有法力把他思想中杂乱无章的片段拼成一幅图画的话，那末，每一块砖上都会有一幅老马利的脑袋的复本。
“胡闹！”斯克掳奇说，一面朝房间的另一头走去。
兜了几圈之后，他又坐下来。当他把头朝后靠在椅背上时，他的目光凑巧落到一只铃上，这只铃挂在房间里，已经不用了，它是同屋子里最高一层楼上的一个房间连接着的，至于当初装着作什么用，如今已被人忘记了。看着看着，他看见这只铃摇摆起来，不禁大为惊诧，并产生了一种奇异的、莫名其妙的恐惧。起初，这铃摇摆得非常轻微，简直一点声音也没有；但是不久响声就大起来了，屋子里的每一只铃也都响了起来。
   
这样大约响了有半分钟，或者一分钟，但是好像有一个小时之久。铃声一齐停止了，正像刚才一齐响起来一样。接着是一阵从下面深处发出的铛锒锒的声音，仿佛有人在酒商的地窖里把一根沉重的链条从一只只酒桶上面拖过去。斯克掳奇这时候才想起听人说过，在凶宅里的鬼是拖着链条的。
地窖的门嘭的一声打开了，于是他听见下面地板上的声音更加响了；接着响到楼梯上来了；接着一直响到他房门口来了。
“这还是胡闹！”斯克掳奇说。“我不相信。”
然而，它片刻不停地穿过那道厚重的门，一直跑到房间里来了，斯克掳奇亲眼目睹之下，脸色都变白了。它一进来，那快要熄灭的火焰就蹿了起来，好像在叫道，“我认识他，那是马利的鬼魂！”说完火光又低落下去。
还是这张脸儿，一模一样。马利拖着辫子，穿着平时常穿的背心、紧身衣裤和皮靴；靴上的流苏倒竖着，像他的辫子、他的上装下摆以及他的头发一样。他拖着的那根链条绕在他的腰际。链条很长，像一条尾巴似地缠在他身上；它是由（因为斯克掳奇看得很仔细）一些银箱、钥匙、挂锁、账簿、契据和钢制的钱袋等组成的。他的身体是透明的，因此斯克掳奇在注视他时，能够透过他的背心，看见他上装背后的两颗纽扣。
斯克掳奇常常听到人家说，马利是没有肚肠心肺的，他以前一直不相信，但是现在亲眼看见了。
不，即使到现在，他还是不相信。他虽然对着这幻象看了又看，而且眼见它站在自己面前；虽然感到它那死亡般冰冷的眼睛阴气袭人，而且注意到那条围住他脑袋和下颌的围巾是什么质料（这条围巾他以前从没看见过），他还是不相信，还是疑心自己看错了。
“怎么啦！”斯克掳奇说，仍然是又尖刻又冷酷。“你找我有什么事？”
“事情多着呢！”——毫无疑问，这是马利的声音。
“你是谁？”
“你该问我从前是谁。”
“那末，你从前是谁？”斯克掳奇提高嗓子问。“你真爱挑剔，鬼透啦。”他本来想说“阴透啦”[26]的，但是改用前面的说法，以为似乎更确切些。
“我生前是你的合伙人，雅各·马利。”
“你能不能够——能不能够坐下来？”斯克掳奇问，满腹狐疑地看着他。
   
“我能够。”
“那末，坐下来吧。”
斯克掳奇问这句话，是因为他不知道像这样一个通体透明的鬼能不能坐到椅子上去；他以为，这鬼如果不可能坐下的话，那就免不了要作一番尴尬的解释。但是这个鬼已经在壁炉的对面那边坐下了，仿佛它惯常都是这样做的。
“你不相信我，”鬼说。
“我不相信，”斯克掳奇说。
“除了你自己的感觉之外，你要有什么证据才能相信我真的在这儿呢？”
“我不知道，”斯克掳奇说。
“你为什么怀疑你自己的感觉？”
“因为，”斯克掳奇说，“只要有一点儿地方不对头，感觉就会失常的。譬如说胃里稍微有点不舒服，感觉就会靠不住。你也许是一小块未消化的牛肉、一摊芥末、一片干奶酪的碎皮、一块没有煮熟的马铃薯。不管你是什么东西，你身上的油分总比土分来得多！”
斯克掳奇是不太习惯于讲笑话的，而且那时候他也一点儿没有想开玩笑的心思。其实，他是想装得精明些，以便转移他自己的注意力，同时抑制他的恐惧心理，因为那个鬼的声音使他从骨髓里感到惶恐不安。
斯克掳奇觉得，这样一直默不作声地坐着注视这双呆滞而无神的眼睛，实在是叫他受不了。何况，非常可怕的是，这幽灵本身就带着一种地狱般的气氛。斯克掳奇自己感觉不到这股气氛，但情况明摆着是这样；因为那个鬼虽然坐在那里一动不动，可是他的头发、衣摆和流苏，都照样在飘动着，好像被炉灶里的热气激荡着似的。
“你看见这根牙签没有？”斯克掳奇说；他为了刚才提到的那个原因，很快地又来发动攻势了，只希望能把这幽灵的铁石般的凝视转移到他自身以外的东西上去，即使是一秒钟也好。
“我看得见，”鬼回答说。
“你并没有对它看嘛，”斯克掳奇说。
“可是，”这鬼说，“我还是看见它的。”
“好吧！”斯克掳奇回答说。“我只要把这根牙签吞下肚去，我这后半世就会一直受到我自己想象中的一大批精灵所迫害。胡闹，我告诉你！胡闹！”
那鬼听到这里，发出一声可怕的叫喊，并且摇动他的链条，发出一阵那么凄凉可怕的声音，吓得斯克掳奇紧紧抓住了椅子，以免晕倒。但是更使他惊骇的是，只见这幽灵把头上的围巾解了下来（好像在室内围着太热似的），它的下颌竟一直垂到了胸前！
斯克掳奇双膝跪下，紧握双手遮住了脸。
“饶了我吧！”他说。“可怕的阴魂，你为什么要来缠我？”
“凡夫俗子啊！”鬼回答说，“你现在相信不相信我？”
“我相信啦，”斯克掳奇说。“我不能不相信。但是幽灵们为什么要到人间来走动，而且为什么要来找我呢？”
“每个人，”那鬼回答说，“都应当使自己内在的心灵到人们之间去活动，到四面八方去旅行；如果在世的时候他的心灵不到外面去，那末死后就要罚它这样做。它将注定要到全世界去流浪——咳，好苦啊！——而且要亲眼看到许多他在世时本来可以分享得到、并且从中得到幸福的事物，现在他却没有资格分享了。”
这鬼魂又发出一声号叫，摇动它的链条，搓着一双鬼手。
“你给上了锁链，”斯克掳奇发着抖说。“告诉我这是为了什么？”
“我身上缠着的锁链是我在世时自己锻造的，”鬼回答说。“我一环一环，一码一码地把它打成；我自愿把它绕在身上，自愿佩戴着它。你是不是觉得它的式样从未见到过？”
斯克掳奇抖得更厉害了。
“或者，你是想知道，”这鬼接下去说，“你自己身上缠着的那条结实的锁链有多少重多少长吧？在七个圣诞夜以前，它就已经足足有这样重这样长了。从那时候起，你还在辛辛苦苦地制造它。现在它是一条奇重无比的锁链啦！”
斯克掳奇看看周围的地板，以为会发现自己被五六十英寻[27]长的铁索包围着；但是他什么也没有看见。
“雅各，”他恳求着，“老雅各·马利啊，你再多讲点给我听听。讲点安慰的话给我听听，雅各！”
“我没有什么安慰的话可以讲给你听，”这鬼回答说。“这种话是从别的地域来的，埃伯尼泽·斯克掳奇，这是要由别的使者们带来，传达给另外几种人听的。我也不能把我想讲的话告诉你。准许我讲给你听的只有很短的几句话了。我不能休息，不能停住，不能在任何地方逗留。我的灵魂从来没有走到我们账房的外面去过——注意听我的话！——我在世时，我的心灵从来没有漫游到我们那狭窄的兑换处窗口的外面去过；如今疲劳的旅程正展开在我面前！”
斯克掳奇有这样一个习惯：每逢想心事的时候，总要把双手插进裤袋里。他现在思量着那鬼所讲的话，手也就这样做了，不过他的眼睛并不向上看，人也并不站起来。
“你一定是走得很慢的，雅各，”斯克掳奇一本正经地说，然而是带着谦卑和恭敬的样子的。
“慢！”鬼重复说了这个字。
“死了已经七年啦，”斯克掳奇思量着说。“这时期中一直在旅行吗？”
“整整七年啦，”那鬼说。“没有休息，没有安宁。在不断的悔恨中受尽苦楚。”
“你走得快吗？”斯克掳奇说。
“御风而行嘛，”鬼回答说。
“这七年里，你是原可以走过许多地方的啊，”斯克掳奇说。
那鬼听了这句话，又发出了一声号叫，铛锒锒地挥动着它的链条，在万籁俱寂的夜间，声音怪可怕的，如果治安监护人要控告它扰乱安宁，是很有理由的。
“咳！被绑住手脚并上着双重桎梏的囚徒啊，”这幽灵叫道，“竟不知道，自古以来有多少不朽的人物为了人间长期不断地努力，可是在其可感知的好处尚未完全显露以前，这些努力就得成为泡影！竟不知道，任何具有基督教精神的人，在他那小天地里善良地工作着，不论这小天地是什么，他都会感到，行善之道广阔无涯，但人生如朝露，无能为力。竟不知道，人生的机缘一旦贻误，就将从此追悔莫及！然而我正是如此！唉，我正是如此啊！”
“但你向来是一位业务能手嘛，雅各，”斯克掳奇结结巴巴地说，他现在开始把这话应用到他自己身上了。
“业务！”那鬼搓搓手，叫道。“人类才是我的业务！大众的福利才是我的业务；慈悲、仁爱、宽容与和善，这一切才都是我的业务。至于我那一行买卖，在我这浩瀚似海的业务中，只不过是一滴水罢了！”
他伸直手臂，举起链条，仿佛他所有那些徒然的悲伤，都来自这唯一的根源；然后把这根链条又重重地摔在地上。
“在这岁月流逝、一年将尽的时候，”这鬼魂说，“我受苦受得最厉害。当我在人群中穿行时，我为什么把眼睛向下看，却从来不朝上望望那颗指引三博士到一个穷人住处去的神佑的星[28]呢？难道已经没有穷人的家庭可以让这颗星的光束给我领路吗？”
斯克掳奇听着鬼魂这样说下去，觉得惊慌失措，不禁浑身发起抖来，抖得非常厉害。
“听我说呀！”鬼叫道。“我的时间快要完了。”
“我听着，”斯克掳奇说。“不过可别对我太严厉！别咬文嚼字，雅各！恳求你！”
“我怎样会在你面前，以一种看得见的形态出现，这是我不便告诉你的。我坐在你身边，而你看不见，这样已经有好多天了。”
这回事叫人听了可不好受。斯克掳奇打了一个寒噤，抹去额上的汗。
“在我赎罪补过的苦行中，这是并不轻松的一部分，”这鬼接下去说。“我今夜到这里来，是要警告你：你还有逃脱我这种命运的一线机会和希望。这是我替你求来的一线机会和希望，埃伯尼泽。”
“你向来是我的好朋友，”斯克掳奇说。“谢谢你！”
“有三个幽灵，”那鬼接下去说，“将要来缠着你。”
斯克掳奇的脸色立刻沉下来，跟那个鬼刚才的脸色差不多。
“这就是你刚才提到的机会和希望么，雅各？”他声音颤抖地问。
“正是。”
“我——我想我宁愿不要，”斯克掳奇说。
“如果没有他们来找你，”那鬼说，“你就别想能逃避我所走的道路。明天敲一点钟的时候，你等着第一位到来吧。”
“我能不能让他们一起来，干脆了结掉这件事呢，雅各？”斯克掳奇透露这个想法说。
“在第二夜的同一个时间，你等着第二位到来吧。第三位，在下一夜刚敲完十二点钟的时候来。你不必指望再看见我；而且，为了你自己的好处，你必须记住我们之间的这次交谈！”
那鬼说完这几句话之后，就把围巾从桌上拿过来，像先前一样包在头上。斯克掳奇知道这一点，是因为听到它的上下颚被围巾包拢在一起时，牙齿发出清脆的响声。他壮着胆子，举目又看了一下，只见他这位鬼客笔直地站在他面前，链条在手臂上紧绕密缠着。
这幽灵从他身边倒退着走去；它每向后退一步，窗框就自动向上升高一点。等到它退到窗边时，窗户已经敞开了。它招呼斯克掳奇走过去，斯克掳奇听从了。等他们彼此距离只有两步路了，马利的鬼魂举起手来，警告他不要再走近去。斯克掳奇就站住了。
这与其说是服从，不如说是由于惊异和恐惧；因为，当那鬼举起手来的时候，斯克掳奇就听见空中有一阵嘈杂的声响：断断续续的悲叹声和悔恨声；难以形容的悲戚和自我谴责的哭声。那鬼听了一会儿之后，也加入了这悲伤的挽歌声，并且飘浮到凄冷的黑夜里去了。
斯克掳奇跟到窗户边；他出于好奇心，拼命向窗外望去。
空中充满了幻影，仓皇不安地东飘西荡，一面走一面呜咽着。他们个个都像马利的鬼魂那样，链条缠身；有几个（它们也许是有罪孽的官僚吧）还给绑在一起；却没有一个是自由的。内中有许多在世时是斯克掳奇认识的。他很熟悉其中一个年老的鬼，它穿着一件白色的背心，脚踝上挂着一只巨大无比的铁保险箱，它看见下面一家门口有一个抱着婴孩的可怜巴巴的女人，因为自己不能够去帮助她而伤心地哭着。它们大家的苦恼是很明显的：为了要行善，都试图过问人间的事情，只可惜已经永远无能为力了。
   
这些鬼魂究竟是渐渐消失在雾里，还是被雾笼罩了，他可说不准了。但是它们和它们的幽灵之声一起消失了；于是黑夜又变得同他走回家时一样了。
斯克掳奇关上窗子，去检查那鬼从那儿进来的那道门。门还是双重锁着，跟他自己亲手锁上的时候一样，门闩也没有被人动过。他想说一声“胡闹！”但是说出头一个字就住口不说了。而且，因为刚才情绪激动了一阵子，或是因为白天工作得疲乏了，或是因为瞥见了阴间世界，听到了那鬼的枯燥乏味的谈话，以及时间已经很晚了，使他非常需要休息，因此就衣服也不脱，一直走到床边，倒在床上，立刻睡着了。

[1] 英国旧时风俗，每逢圣诞节，民间歌手挨家挨户去唱圣诞颂歌，以欢颂基督的诞生或有关圣诞的事件。狄更斯把这篇小说称作“散文体的圣诞颂歌”，所以不称“章”而称“节”。
[2] 英国谚语。古老的大门上往往镶有一只大钉，门环叩在上面作响，把它敲得命都没有了。一般都指物，这里指人，是要造成一种虚幻的气氛。
[3] 这“城”不是指整个伦敦城，而只是指城中部旧城区一带，那里是伦敦的金融贸易中心，大银行、公司等集中于此；还有伦敦塔、圣保罗大教堂等。
[4] 触摸得着的棕色空气：这是说空气中的雾太浓了，仿佛已经凝固，可以用手触摸得着。
[5] 年底结账：英国习俗，到了圣诞节，要结算账目，看看收支是否相抵。如有欠债，即应归还，颇似我国农历除夕。
[6] 冬青树枝：冬青是一种常绿树，冬季结红色果实，是圣诞节的象征，多用来作室内装饰。在圣诞前夕的宴会中，最后上有干果的布丁时，就把一根冬青枝插在布丁上，这是传统的风俗，所以斯克掳奇这样讲。
[7] 阁下：这是长辈责备晚辈时的反称。
[8] “看见他外甥……”：原文这句话作者没有完全写出来，下文应该是：“go to the devil first”（“先见魔鬼去”），是骂人“该死”的粗话，一般人都说不出口的，但斯克掳奇却全讲了出来。
[9] 疯人院：原文为Bedlam，即伦敦著名的伯利恒圣玛利亚医院的简称，本是一所修道院，后成为专门收治疯子的精神病院。这里是说他们全疯了。
[10] 恤贫局：由两个以上的教区联合设立，是办理救济贫民事务的机构。习艺所里的工作和生活都有意搞得非常艰苦，贫民宁愿干什么都可以，却不愿进习艺所。狄更斯在他的名著《奥立佛·退斯特》中有详细的描写。
[11] 踏车：一种梯级形、圆桶形或长带形的木轮踏车，设在监狱内，令犯人终日践踏，旋转不停，作为刑罚。后来不用，改为教犯人习手艺做工。
[12] 济贫法：英国救济贫民的法律，其经费来自纳税人所缴济贫税。斯克掳奇这里的意思是说，既然已经交过税，还要再拿出什么钱呢？狄更斯对于济贫法的改革曾起过很大作用。
[13] 当时伦敦街上，雾大时有许多小孩，手持火把，为马车及行人引路，以博取微酬，称为“火把小子”。
[14] 哥特式：西欧十二世纪至十六世纪常见的建筑样式，有尖顶拱门，多用于教堂。
[15] 市长：当时伦敦市长是市议会的主席，由议会中的长老议员选出，长老议员则由议员们选出。市长人选总是城里殷富的商人。其官邸坐落于城中心，面对英格兰银行。
[16] 圣邓斯丹：英国传说中十世纪的一名修道士，后任坎特伯雷大主教。据说魔鬼曾亲自去引诱他，他不但不受诱惑，反而用一把烧得通红的火钳钳住魔鬼的鼻子，使它号叫着讨饶。这里说的“武器”就是指火钳。
[17] 当时每逢圣诞节，常有小孩们串街走巷，唱着圣诞欢歌，讨取几个铜子儿。有些歌流传久远，这一首即其中之一，歌的下文是：“……因为耶稣基督，我们的救世主，就降生在这一天，使我们免受魔鬼的引诱，迷途知返，摆脱魔法。喜讯带来安逸与欢欣，因为我们的救世主，耶稣基督，降生在圣诞日。”
[18] 克朗：英国硬币名，意即皇冠，因币上印有皇冠或戴皇冠的头像，故名。值五先令，现已不用。
[19] 堪姆登镇为伦敦当时的一个郊区，大部分居民是贫苦劳动人民。
[20] 长老议员为英格兰及爱尔兰的市议会中由议员们选出来的高年资议员，其地位仅次于市长。
[21] 穿制服的人：十九世纪时伦敦七十六家公司和同业公会的荣誉市民、会员等，都穿特制的制服，故有此称。
[22] 当时英、法等国的男子，流行在脑后扎一根辫子，英国俗称“猪尾巴”。
[23] “驾一部六匹马（或四匹马）的大马车冲破新法案”是一句英国谚语，意思是像驾着一部大马车似的横冲直撞，把国会刚通过的法案加以破坏。意指新法案往往不够完善，有很大空子可钻。
[24] 该隐是亚当的长子，他杀害了他的弟弟亚伯。法老是古埃及国王的称号，希巴是阿拉伯南部的一个国家，其女王曾访问以色列国王所罗门。亚伯拉罕是希伯来族的始祖。伯沙撒是巴比伦的最后一个国王。这些都是《圣经·旧约全书》中的著名人物。
[25] 据《圣经·出埃及记》第7章第8到13节，摩西和他哥哥亚伦遵照耶和华的旨意，去见法老行奇事，亚伦把杖掷地，变成了一条蛇，把别的术士们的杖都吞吃了下去。
[26] “鬼透啦，阴透啦”：原文为for a shade（鬼，就鬼而言）及to a shade（阴，疙瘩到了极点）。同一个字（shade）因介词的不同（for、to）而意义有异。这是狄更斯在玩弄文字游戏。
[27] 英寻：英国测量水深的长度单位，一英寻等于六英尺，合1.829公尺。
[28] 据《圣经·马太福音》第2章第1节，东方有三位博士观星象而发现耶稣基督降生，这颗星在他们前面引路，使他们寻到伯利恒，在约瑟的贫苦的家里，拜见新生的婴儿。

第二节歌
三幽灵中的第一个
斯克掳奇醒来的时候，天还是很黑，他从床上望出去，简直无法把那扇透明的窗子同他房里的不透明的墙壁分辨出来。他竭力想用他那双雪貂[1]般锐利的眼睛望穿黑暗，这时，附近一座教堂连敲了报四刻的钟声。他便静听接着敲几点钟。
叫他大为惊骇的是，这沉重的钟声敲了六下再敲第七下、第八下，这样有规则地直敲了十二下才停止。十二点啦！他上床的时候已经是两点多。这只钟一定是出毛病了。一定有一根冰柱搅进它的齿轮之间去了。十二点！
他揿揿打簧表[2]的弹簧，来校正一下这只岂有此理的钟。表的小脉搏快速地打了十二下，就停止了。
“我竟会睡了整整一个白天，再一直睡到半夜，”斯克掳奇说，“这怎么可能呢！这也不可能是太阳出了什么毛病，而现在是中午十二点吧！”
因为这个想法太吓人了，他就赶快爬下床来，摸索着走到窗边去。他非得用晨衣的袖子擦掉窗上的霜，才能够看见东西；可是即使这样仍然看不大到什么。他所能看出的只是：雾还很大，天还非常冷，没有人跑来跑去的声音，也没引起很大的骚动；假如黑夜当真已经赶走了白昼而占有了世界的话，那就毫无疑问会引起骚动的。这倒是一个莫大的安慰，因为，如果无法计算日子的话，那末“见此第一联汇票三日后请付埃伯尼泽·斯克掳奇先生或其授权人”等等，就会变得像一张美国的债券[3]一样不值钱了。
斯克掳奇回到床上去，想啊想的，想了又想，还是想不出一个名堂来。而且他越想就越糊涂，他越是竭力不去想它呢，反而越是想得多。马利的鬼魂使他烦恼得不得了。每当他经过充分思考，断定这全是一场梦之后，他的心却老是像一个放松了的强力弹簧似的，又弹回到原来的地方去，结果又得从头研究这同样的问题：“这到底是不是一场梦？”
斯克掳奇怀着这种心情躺着，直躺到钟声报了三刻，这时候他忽然想起，那鬼警告过他，当钟报一点时就会有客来找他。他决定醒着躺在床上，等候这个时辰过去；而这个主意，由于他那时的不能入睡正如他不能入天堂一样，也许可以说是他所能作出的最聪明的决定了。
这一刻钟时间真长，以致他不只一次地认为自己一定不知不觉地打起瞌睡，错过钟点了。最后，钟声传入他那静听着的耳中来了。
“叮，！”
“十二点一刻，”斯克掳奇数着说。
“叮，！”
“十二点半，”斯克掳奇说。
“叮，！”
“一点差一刻，”斯克掳奇说。
“叮，！”
“到点了，”斯克掳奇得意地说，“一点事情也没有！”
他说话时，报点的那一下还没有敲响，现在可来了：深沉、滞重、空洞而阴郁的的一声。房间里立刻闪起一道亮光，他床上的帐子被掀开了。
他床上的帐子，我告诉你，是被一只手掀开的。不是掀他脚边的帐子，也不是他背后的帐子，而是他面前的帐子。他床上的帐子被掀开到一边去，于是斯克掳奇惊跳起来，成了一个半躺半靠的姿势，发现自己正面对着那掀开帐子的阴间来客：跟它靠拢得就像我现在靠拢你一样，而我的心神现在正在你的身旁。
那是一个稀奇古怪的形象[4]——像一个小孩子；可是，如果说它像一个小孩子，倒不如说更像一个老头子，因为通过某种幽幻的介质看来，它显得渐渐远离视线，而缩成一个孩子的大小。它的头发披在颈边，并且下垂到背上，仿佛因为年纪老而变白了；可是脸上却一丝皱纹也没有，皮肤上还显出最娇嫩的红色。胳膊很长，筋肉发达；一双手也是这样，仿佛紧握起来是力大非凡的。它的腿和脚形状都非常娇柔，像它的手臂一样裸露着。它穿着一件最洁白的束腰短袍，腰间扎着一条亮晶晶的带子，光彩夺目。它手里拿着一根新鲜的冬青树枝；可是，跟这冬天的标志特别显得不调和的是，它的衣服上都缀满着夏季的鲜花。但是最最奇怪的事情是，从它的天灵盖上射出一道灿烂的光芒，把这一切都照得清清楚楚的；这无疑就是它逢到要使这光较暗些的时候，用一顶挺大的熄灯帽[5]来当作睡帽的原因，现在这帽子正挟在它腋下。
这情形虽然奇怪，可是斯克掳奇越是向它盯着看，就越觉得这还不是它最奇怪的地方。因为，当它那条腰带一会儿在这部分，一会儿在那部分闪烁发光、忽明忽暗的时候，它的形体本身也就一会儿清晰，一会儿模糊；有时是一个只有一条臂膊的东西，有时却是只有一条腿；有时有二十条腿，有时有两条腿而没有头，有时是有头而没有身体。那些消失了的肢体都融入了浓黑的夜色里，一点儿轮廓也看不出来。接着，就在这样的奇迹中，它又会重新恢复原状，依旧是一清二楚的。
“阁下，您就是有人事先通知我要光临的那位神灵吗？”斯克掳奇问。
“我就是！”
说话的声音是轻柔而温和的。声音特别低，仿佛不是从他近旁，而是从很远的地方传来的。
“你是谁，是干什么的？”斯克掳奇追问道。
“我是‘过去圣诞节之灵’。”
“过去很久么？”斯克掳奇注意到它那侏儒般的身材，这样问道。
“不。是你的过去。”
如果有谁来问斯克掳奇，斯克掳奇也许答不出个道理来，但他怀着一种特别的愿望，想看看这幽灵戴上帽子的样子，于是他便请求它把帽子戴上。
“怎么！”这幽灵叫道，“难道你迫不及待地要用你这双世俗的手来把我发出的光明扑灭么？有些人把他们的欲望制成了这顶帽子，逼我把它低低地戴在额角上，一直戴了这许多年，而你就是他们中间的一个，难道这还不够么？”
斯克掳奇毕恭毕敬地否认他有丝毫冒犯它的意思，也想不起自己一生中的任何时候曾经故意硬给它“戴上帽子”[6]过。接着他便大胆地请问它到这儿来有什么贵干。
“为了你的福利！”幽灵说。
斯克掳奇表示十分感激，但是心里不禁想：没有人来打扰，让他安睡一夜，恐怕对于他的福利更有帮助。这幽灵一定是猜到他的心思了，因为它立刻就说道：
“那末，就说为了你的改过自新吧。注意！”
它一边说，一边伸出它那只强壮的手，轻轻地勾住他的胳膊。
“起来！跟我一起走吧！”
斯克掳奇即使恳求它，说气候和时间都不适宜于出去散步；说床上暖和，寒暑表却降到了零下好几度；说他只穿着拖鞋和晨衣，戴着睡帽，身上是单薄的；还说他这时正在伤风——即使这样恳求它，也都是没有用的。那只抓住他的手，虽则轻柔得像一只女人的手，却是无法抗拒的。他站起身来，但是发现那幽灵正向窗口走去，就抓住它的袍子，恳求怜悯。
“我是一个凡人，”斯克掳奇抗议说，“会摔下去的。”
“只要你经得起我用手在那里点一下，”这幽灵说，把手放在他的心口上，“你就会被举起来，比这还要高！”
话刚说完，他们就穿过了墙壁，站在一条宽阔的乡村道路上，两旁都是田野。城市已经完全消失了，连一点影子都看不见了。黑暗和迷雾也跟它一起消失，变成了一个晴朗、寒冷的冬天的日子，地上铺满着雪。
“天啊！”斯克掳奇向四周看了看，把双手勾在一起。“我就是在这个地方生长的。我从小就在这儿的！”
那幽灵温和地盯着他。虽然它那手刚才只是轻微而短促地点了他一下，可是这老头子似乎到现在还带着这种感觉。他觉得空气中飘浮着千百种气味，每一种气味都使人联想起很久很久以前就已淡忘的千百种思虑、希望、欢乐和忧愁！
“你的嘴唇在打哆嗦，”那幽灵说。“还有，你脸上的那一点是什么？”
斯克掳奇声音里带点不寻常的哽咽，咕了一声说那是一个粉刺，就恳求这幽灵带领他到他愿去的地方。
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“你还记得路径吗？”幽灵问。
“记得路径！”斯克掳奇热情洋溢地叫道，“我蒙住眼睛也能走到那儿去哩！”
“奇怪的是，你竟把它忘掉那么多年了，”幽灵说。“我们继续走吧。”
他们沿着这条路走去，斯克掳奇认出了每一道院门，每一根柱子和每一株树，最后看到远处出现了一个小小的市镇，那儿有桥、礼拜堂和一条曲折的河。有几匹蓬松着鬃毛的小马在向他们快步跑来，马背上骑着小孩子，他们招呼着坐在农民们驾驶的双轮单马车和大车里的其他孩子们。这些孩子都是兴高采烈的，彼此大喊大叫，闹得这广阔的田野里充满了一片愉快的音乐声，连那清新的空气听了都笑起来！
“这些只是过去事物的影子罢了，”幽灵说。“它们意识不到我们在这儿。”
那些高高兴兴的旅客走过来了；当他们走来时，斯克掳奇认出他们每一个人，并且叫得出每一个人的名字。他为什么看见他们就欢喜得不得了呢？为什么等他们走过身边时，他那冷酷的眼睛会发出光亮，他的心会怦怦地跳呢？当他们在十字路口或岔路上分手，各自回家时，他们彼此祝颂着圣诞快乐，为什么他听见了这种声音就心中充满了喜悦呢？圣诞快乐对于斯克掳奇算得上什么呢？去它的圣诞快乐！它对他哪有过什么好处呢？
“学堂里的人还没有全走掉，”幽灵说。“有一个孤单单的孩子，朋友们都不理睬他，还留在那儿。”
斯克掳奇说他知道这回事。接着他就啜泣起来。
他们离开大路，拐上一条很熟悉的小路，不久就走到一座暗红色的砖砌大厦跟前。大厦屋顶上有个钟形小阁，上面安着一只小风信鸡，里面挂着一口钟。这是一幢大房子，不过是一家破落户的房子；因为那些宽敞的下房简直没人在使用了，墙壁都是潮湿的，生满着苔藓，窗户都破碎了，院门已经腐烂。家禽在马厩里咯咯叫，昂首阔步地走着；马车房和棚子里都长满了草。即使屋子里面也并不更多地保持着旧观；因为他们一踏进那凄凉的门厅，从开着的房门望到那许多房间里，就发现这些房间陈设简陋，寒冷、空旷。空气里有一股泥土气息，屋子里有一种阴森森的荒凉气象，这多少使人联想到是由于常常天不亮就点上蜡烛起床[7]，同时吃的东西又不充足。
他们，这幽灵和斯克掳奇，穿过门厅，走到屋子后部的一扇门前。门在他们面前开了，展现出一间简陋凄凉的长形房间，里面摆着几排未油漆的松木长凳和书桌，使这间房间显得更加简陋了。在一张书桌前，有一个孤寂的孩子在暗淡的炉火旁读着书；斯克掳奇看见了自己那被遗忘的、可怜巴巴的小时候的形象，不禁在一张板凳上坐下，哭了起来。
屋子里潜藏着的回声，板壁后面老鼠的尖叫和打架声，萧条的后院里水落管开始解冻的滴滴嗒嗒声，一株垂头丧气的白杨树从光秃秃的枝条间发出的叹息声，一间空储藏室的门百无聊赖的摇晃声，甚至连火炉里毕毕剥剥的响声，这种种声音，没有一种不落在斯克掳奇的心上，起到软化的作用，使他的眼泪更流个不住。
那幽灵碰碰他的胳膊，指指他小时候正在专心读书的那个形象[8]。忽然有一个穿外国服装的人，看起来活灵活现、清清楚楚的，正站在窗户外面，腰带里插着一把斧头，一手抓住笼头，牵着一匹驮着木柴的驴子。
“唷，那是阿里巴巴[9]呀！”斯克掳奇狂喜地叫道。“那是亲爱的、诚实的好阿里巴巴！是的，是的，我想起来了！有一年圣诞节，当这个寂寞的孩子孤零零地被撇下在这里的时候，他真的来了，那是头一次，就像现在一样。可怜的孩子！还有伐兰坦，”斯克掳奇说，“和他那野生的兄弟奥逊[10]；他们从那边走过去了！还有，那个穿着衬裤睡着了被人放在大马士革城门口的，他的名字叫什么？你看见他没有？还有那苏丹的马夫，妖魔使他倒立，他还在头朝下地倒立着！他这是活该！我很高兴。他有什么资格去跟公主结婚啊？”
假使斯克掳奇那些在城里做生意的朋友听见他把他天性中的满腔热诚都发泄在这些事情上，而声音又像哭又像笑，非常特别；并且看见他那张又兴奋又激动的脸儿，他们准会大大吃惊的。
“看那只鹦哥！”斯克掳奇叫道。“绿身体，黄尾巴，头顶上长着一件像根莴苣似的东西；它就在那儿！当可怜的鲁滨孙[11]环绕全岛航行后回家时，鹦哥就叫他可怜的鲁滨孙。‘可怜的鲁滨孙，你刚才到哪儿去了，鲁滨孙？’那人还以为他在做梦呢，其实他并没有。是那鹦哥在叫他，你知道。礼拜五跑过去了，他是在往小溪逃命！嗨呀！嗬！嗨呀！”
于是，在一种跟他平时的性格完全不符的迅速转变下，他痛惜过去的自己，不禁说了声：“可怜的孩子！”就又哭了起来。
“我希望，”斯克掳奇把手伸到口袋里，嘀咕着说，并且先用袖口擦干了眼泪，再向周围看看，“可是如今太迟了！”
“怎么回事？”这幽灵问。
“没有什么，”斯克掳奇说。“没有什么。昨天夜里，有个小孩在我门口唱了一支圣诞颂歌。我当时真该给他一点什么。就是这么一回事。”
那幽灵若有所思地微笑了，一边摆摆手，一边说道：“让我们来看看另外一个圣诞节的情形吧！”
话刚说完，斯克掳奇自己小时候的形象马上变得大起来，那个房间也变得更暗更脏了。墙上的镶板蜷缩起来，窗户都裂缝了；天花板上的灰泥一片片地剥落下来，露出了里面的光板条；但是怎么会弄成这样，斯克掳奇所知道的也并不比你我多。他只知道这情况是确实的；这一切当初确实是发生过的；他还是独自一人待在那儿，别的孩子们都已经回家去欢度节日了。
他这时不在读书了，而是在绝望地走来走去。斯克掳奇对幽灵看看，伤心地摇摇头，带着焦急的心情望着门口。
门打开了；一个小女孩，年纪比这男孩子小得多，飞也似地奔进来，用手臂搂住他的脖子，连连地吻着他，称呼他“亲爱的、亲爱的哥哥”。
“我是来接你回家去的，亲爱的哥哥！”女孩说，拍着她的一双小手，弯下身体笑着。“来接你回家，回家，回家！”
“回家，小芳？”这男孩应道。
“是的！”女孩子说，充满了欢喜。“回家去，永远不再来啦。回家去，从此不离开了。父亲比从前仁慈得多了，所以家里就像天堂一样啦！有一个值得纪念的晚上，在我上床睡觉的时候，他对我讲话特别温和，因此我就壮起胆子再问他能不能准许你回家来；他就说，好，你可以回家；还派我坐了马车来接你。而且你快要成为大人啦！”女孩子张大了眼睛说。“再也不必回到这里来了；不过首先，我们要一起过完这个圣诞节期[12]，享受世界上最愉快的时光。”
“你真像个长大了的女人了，小芳！”这男孩叫道。
她拍着手笑，想去摸他的头；可是因为个儿太小了，就又笑起来，踮起脚尖来搂抱他。接着她带着她那孩子气的迫不及待的神情，拉着他向门口走去；而他呢，本来很乐意去，就跟着她走了。
门厅里一个可怕的声音喊道：“嗨，把斯克掳奇少爷的箱子搬下来！”于是校长本人在门厅里出现了，他带着一种恶狠狠的、假作殷勤的样子盯着斯克掳奇少爷，并且跟他握握手，这使他慌张得不得了。校长接着便把他和他妹妹带到那最好的客厅里去，那地方简直像一口从未见过的冷得叫人发抖的古井，在那里，墙壁上的地图、窗台上的天体仪和地球仪，都给冻得像蜡一般苍白了。在这里，他拿出一细颈玻璃瓶淡得出奇的酒和一大块重得出奇的饼，并把这些精美的东西分了点给这两个孩子吃；同时他打发一个挺瘦的仆人送一杯“什么东西”去给那车夫喝，车夫回答说，谢谢这位老爷，但是如果这东西就是他上次尝过的那种桶装老酒，那末他情愿不要喝。斯克掳奇少爷的衣箱这时候已经捆好被放在马车顶上了，两个孩子就满心情愿地向校长告别；接着跨上马车，欢快地沿着花园里的曲径驶去；急转的车轮把常青树深绿色叶子上的白霜和积雪都震落下来，像水花飞溅一般。
“一向是个体质娇嫩的人儿，仿佛一口气就可以把她吹得枯萎的，”那幽灵说。“但是她具有伟大的心胸！”
“她是这样的一个人，”斯克掳奇叫道。“你说得对。我不会否定你这句话，幽灵。上帝也不容许！”
“她死时已经是个妇人了，”幽灵说，“而且，我想，她还生有子女。”
“一个孩子，”斯克掳奇回答道。
“不错，”幽灵说。“就是你的外甥！”
斯克掳奇似乎问心有愧，只简单地回答了一声“是的”。
他们虽则还是刚刚离开那学堂，可是眼前已经到了一个城市的热闹的大街上，只见有隐隐绰绰的行人在来来往往，还有隐隐绰绰的运货车和马车在争夺着路走，凡是一个真正的城市所有的争吵和喧嚣，这里都有。从店铺的装潢上清清楚楚看得出，这儿也正好又逢着圣诞节来临了；但时候是在晚上，街上都已灯火辉煌了。
幽灵在某一所仓库的门口停下了步，问斯克掳奇知道不知道这地方。
“知道不知道！”斯克掳奇说。“我不就是在这儿当过学徒的吗？”
他们走进去。一位戴着威尔士假发[13]的老先生，坐在一张高得可以的写字台后面，如果他的身高再多两英寸的话，他的头就要碰到天花板了；斯克掳奇一看见他，就激动万分地叫起来：
“哎呀，原来是老费昔威！上天保佑他，费昔威复活啦！”
老费昔威放下了笔，抬头看看钟，时针正指着七点。他搓搓手，整整他那件宽大的背心，笑得前俯后仰，从他的皮鞋到他那乐善好施的脑袋，都在笑，并且用一种舒畅、圆滑、丰润、饱满和喜悦的声音叫道：
“唷嗬，嗨！埃伯尼泽！迪克！”
斯克掳奇从前的自己，这时已经成长为一个青年了，轻快地走进来，他的师兄弟跟他一起进来。
“迪克·威尔金斯，一点不错！”斯克掳奇对幽灵说。“天啊，是他。正是他。他跟我很要好的，这个迪克。可怜的迪克！唉，唉！”
“唷嗬，我的孩子们！”费昔威说。“今儿晚上不要再工作了。圣诞节前夜嘛，迪克。圣诞节嘛，埃伯尼泽！咱们来把护窗板都上起来，”老费昔威叫道，响亮地拍了一下手，“说干就干吧！”
你简直不会相信这两个家伙怎么干得这么快！他们掮起护窗板就冲到街上——一、二、三——把板都上好了——四、五、六——插上窗闩把板扣住了——七、八、九——你还没有数到十二，他们已经跑了回来，像赛跑的马那样直喘气。
老费昔威异常灵活地从他那张高写字台上跳了下来，嘴里叫道，“唏哩—呵！把东西搬开，孩子们，让我们这儿多空出些地方！唏哩—呵，迪克！唧、唧、唧，埃伯尼泽！”
把东西全搬开！有老费昔威在旁边看着，他们还有什么东西不高兴搬开，或是搬不开的！一眨眼工夫就都做好了。每一件可以移动的东西都搬开了，仿佛要把它们永远摒弃不用似的；地板打扫过了并洒上了水，灯芯都剪好了，木柴都堆在炉火上了；于是这仓库就变成一个你巴不得在冬天夜里看见的挺舒服、暖和、干燥而光明的舞会大厅了。
一位小提琴手夹着乐谱走了进来，跑到那高大的写字台上，把它变成一个奏乐台，就调起音来，像胃病患者在一叠连声地哼叫。费昔威太太走了进来，完全是一副笑逐颜开的样子。三位费昔威小姐走了进来，笑容可掬，而且令人生爱。六个年轻的追随者走了进来，他们的心都被她们搅碎了。这个商行所雇用的男女青年们都走了进来。使女走了进来，带着她的表兄，一个面包师。厨娘走了进来，带着她哥哥的好朋友，送牛奶人。街对面的小厮走了进来，人们怀疑他在他主人家里是吃不饱的；他想躲在隔壁第二家的使女的背后，而她是已经证明被她女主人扯过耳朵的。他们都走了进来，一个接着一个；有的害臊，有的大胆，有的优雅，有的笨拙，有的推着，有的拉着；反正以各种各样的方式，他们大家都走了进来。他们立刻组成了二十对，下去跳舞：手搭着手转了半圈，然后再从另一方向转过来；队伍穿过场子中间跳到一端，再回过来；在各个不同的阶段中，结成了亲密的集体，回旋再回旋；原来领头的那一对总是走错了地方，后来的第一对跳到领头的地方就立刻重新开始；最后大家都排成一行，无所谓头一对了，所以也没什么后面的一对来衬托他们了！等到产生了这样的结果时，老费昔威就拍拍手叫大家停止了跳舞，大叫一声“跳得好！”于是那小提琴手把他那张发热的脸浸到一大罐黑啤酒里，这罐酒就是特地为他准备的。但是他把头抬起来之后，虽则这时候还没有人跳舞，他却不愿意休息，立刻又演奏起来，仿佛先前那个提琴手已经筋疲力尽，被人搁在护窗板上，抬回家去了，而他已成为一个崭新的人物，决心完全胜过过去的他，宁死也要做到。
接着又跳了几次舞，并玩了几次罚物游戏[14]，然后又跳了几次舞，还有蛋糕，有尼格斯酒[15]，并且有一大块冷烤牛肉，一大块冷炖猪肉，还有明治攀[16]以及许许多多啤酒。但是这一晚的大轴戏是在上了烤肉和炖肉以后，那时候琴师（是个狡猾的家伙，注意！他对于业务，比你我所能指点他的要熟悉得多）奏起《罗杰·德·科弗莱爵士》舞曲[17]来。于是老费昔威站出来和费昔威太太跳舞，而且是带头的一对；这对于他们实在是一件需要有硬功夫的事情，因为舞侣有二十三四对，都是些不可轻视的人，都是些宁愿跳舞而绝对不打算散步的人。
但是即使人数增加一倍——哦，甚至四倍于原来的数目吧——老费昔威还是比得过他们的，而费昔威太太也是如此。说到她，她是无论哪一方面都配得上做他的伴侣的。如果这句话还不算是最高的赞美，那末请你告诉我一句更好的，我就来用这句话。费昔威的两条小腿似乎当真发出光芒[18]来。它们像月亮般在每一个舞步中照耀着。在任何时刻，你都无法预言它们在下一秒钟内将会怎么样。老费昔威和费昔威太太从头到尾跳着这支舞；你进我退，双手拉着舞伴，鞠躬和屈膝[19]，来一个螺旋钻孔，来一个线穿针眼，然后回到原来的位置上，费昔威就来一个“剪式动作”[20]，干得那么灵活，他似乎把两条腿像眼睛般眨了眨，就双脚落地，稳健地站住了。
钟敲十一下的时候，这个家庭舞会散场了。费昔威先生和太太各就各位，一人站在门口的一边，等每个人走出去时，和他或她一一握手，并且祝他或她圣诞快乐。等所有的人都走了，只剩下这两个学徒的时候，他们也同样跟他们握手祝贺。欢乐的人声就这样消散了，这两个小子留在那儿，回自己床上去睡觉，床铺就在店堂后面的一个柜台下面。
在整个这段时间中，斯克掳奇的行动像一个神志失常的人一样。他全副精神贯注在这一场景中，贯注在他自己从前的形象中。他确证了每一件事，记起了每一件事，享受着每一件事，而且感受到无比奇特的激动。直到这时，当他从前的自己和迪克两人的快乐脸儿转过去的时候，他才记起那幽灵来，并且意识到它正在紧盯着他看，它脑袋上的光芒照耀得非常清楚。
“只不过一件小小的事情，”幽灵说道，“就使得那些傻瓜这样地感激。”
“小小的事情！”斯克掳奇附和着说。
幽灵向他做了个手势要他听那两个学徒在说的话，他们这时正在竭力称赞费昔威；等他听过了，它就说道：
“喏！不是吗？他不过花了你们人世间的几镑钱，也许不过三四镑吧。难道这笔钱就那么了不起，使他这样值得称赞？”
“话不是这样讲的，”斯克掳奇被这话激恼了，讲起话来就不知不觉地像他从前的自己而不像后来的自己了。“话不是这样讲的，幽灵。他有这种权力来使我们快活或不快活，使我们的工作变成轻松或是繁重，变成娱乐或是苦工。如果说，他的权力存在于语言和神色之中，存在于一些微不足道得无法汇集起来也无法计算的事情之中，那又怎么样呢？他给人的幸福是那样大，就同花了极大一笔钱才换来的一样。”
他觉得幽灵的眼光在看着他，就住口不说了。
“什么事不对头啊？”幽灵问。
“没有什么特别的事，”斯克掳奇说。
“总有点什么事吧，我想？”幽灵追问着。
“没有，”斯克掳奇说，“没有。我真想现在就对我的伙伴说一两句话！就是这么点事。”
当他说出这个愿望时，他从前的自己正在把灯芯捻小；于是斯克掳奇和那幽灵又肩并肩地站在户外了。
“我没有多少时间可以耽搁了，”幽灵说。“快点！”
这句话不是对斯克掳奇说的，也不是对他能看见的任何人说的，但是这话立刻产生了效果。因为斯克掳奇又看见他自己了。他现在年纪已经大了一点，是个年富力强的男子。他脸上还没有后来岁月中出现的那些严峻而刻板的纹路，不过已经开始表现出患得患失和贪得无厌的迹象了。那浮躁地转动着的眼睛里流露出一种急切的贪婪神气来，显示出贪欲已在那儿生了根，在日长夜大地成为一棵大树，它的阴影将落到什么地方。
他不是一个人在那儿，而是坐在一位穿孝服[21]的姣美的少女旁边，她那眼睛里含着的盈盈泪水，被那“过去圣诞节之灵”所发出的光芒照得亮晶晶的。
“这无关紧要，”她轻柔地说。“对你来说，很无关紧要。另外一个偶像已经代替了我；如果它在将来能够像我所想做的那样，使你得到快乐和安慰，那我就没有可悲伤的正当理由了。”
“什么偶像代替了你啊？”他接口问。
“一尊黄金偶像。”
“难道这就是世上公平合理的待遇！”他说。“世上没有比贫穷更苦恼的了；但是世上公然加以谴责的也没有比对追求财富更严厉的了！”
“你太害怕世人了，”她温和地回答说。“你所有的其他希望都汇合成了一个希望，那就是：不至于遭受到世人的苛刻指责。我看见你那些更崇高的志愿都一一消失掉了，直到那主要的欲望，贪欲，占有了你。难道我没有看到吗？”
   
“那又怎么样呢？”他反驳道。“即使我变得比从前聪明多了，又怎么样呢？我对你一点也没有变心啊。”
她摇摇头。
“我没变心吧？”
“我们的婚约是早就订下的。订约的时候我们双方都是贫穷的，而且是安于贫穷，情愿等到适当的时候，能靠着我们坚韧不拔的辛勤劳动，来改善我们在世上的处境。可你现在变了。我们当初订婚的时候，你可不是这样一个人啊。”
“我当时还是个毛孩子，”他不耐烦地说。
“你自己的感觉会告诉你，你从前跟现在是大不相同的，”她回答说。“我却还是老样子。在我们两人一条心的时候，本来可以得到幸福，现在我们既然变成了两条心，自然是充满着痛苦的。我对这个问题考虑过多少次，感到怎样的难过，这些我都不必说了。我只要对你说这一点就够了：我已经考虑好这件事情，现在可以跟你解约了。”
“我曾经要求过解约吗？”
“在言语中，没有。从来没有过。”
“那末，是在什么方面呢？”
“是在性情的改变上；在精神的转移上；在另一种生活气氛中；你把另外一种希望当作了人生的伟大目标。凡是从前使我的爱情在你眼里有点身价和价值的一切，现在都改变了。假使我们之间从来没有发生过这样的事的话，”这姑娘说，温和而坚定地看着他，“告诉我，你现在会不会来追求我，并且想得到我？唉，不会的！”
他似乎要不由自主地承认这个假设是公正的。但是他勉强地回答道：“这是你以为不会。”
“我但愿能够不这样想，”她回答说，“天知道！等我懂得了这样一条道理，我知道它必定是非常强有力和不可抗拒的。但是如果你今天、明天或昨天解除了婚约的话，难道我能相信你会选一个没有嫁妆[22]的女子吗——你这个人，在你同她亲密无间的时候，也是以财富来衡量一切的；再说，即使你暂时违反了你生平唯一的主导原则而选中了她，难道我不知道你事后一定会后悔莫及的吗？我知道的，所以我要跟你解约。为了对他——那个从前的你——的爱，我诚心诚意这样做。”
他正想说话，但是她把头转过去不看他，接下去说道：
“这件事也许会使你感到痛苦的——回想起过去的情分，我不免有半点这样的希望。只要经过一段极短的时间，你就会很高兴地把对这件事情的回忆，当作一场无利可图的梦而撇开，以为你能从这场梦里醒过来正是再好也没有的事。愿你在你所选择的生活里能够快乐！”
她离开了他，他们就此分手了。
“幽灵！”斯克掳奇叫道，“别再显现给我看了！领我回家去吧。你为什么喜欢折磨我啊？”
“再看一个过去的形象！”幽灵叫道。
“不要再看啦！”斯克掳奇喊道。“不要再看啦！我不愿意看。不要再显现什么给我看啦！”
但是这狠心的幽灵用两臂把他挟住，强迫他再看接着出现的事情。
他们这时到了另外一个场景中，那是一间不很大也不华丽的房间，但是充满了舒适的陈设。靠近那过冬用的炉火旁，坐着一位美丽的少女，和刚才的那一位非常相像，斯克掳奇起先还以为就是同一个人，直到后来才看清她现在已是一位秀丽的主妇了，正坐在她女儿的对面。这房间里真是声音嘈杂极了，因为小孩实在太多，斯克掳奇在心神不宁中，简直数也数不清；而且，不像那首诗[23]中的著名的牛群，他们不是四十个孩子行动起来如同一个，却是每一个孩子行动起来像四十个。结果是吵闹得令人难以置信，可是似乎没有一个人觉得讨厌；恰恰相反，她们母女俩畅快地大笑着，感到十分有趣；而女儿不久就参加到这些游戏里去，受到这帮小强盗毫不留情的骚扰。假使我能够成为他们中间的一个，要我付出任何代价我都肯！不过我决不会那么粗鲁，决不，决不！不管出我多大代价，我也不愿把那结成辫子的头发弄散，把它扯下来；还有那只珍贵的小靴子，上帝保佑我，我是无论如何不肯把它脱下来的。至于像他们这一群大胆的小把戏那样，量她的腰身闹着玩儿，这种事情我也决计做不出来；我该料想自己的手臂会遭到天罚，围着她的腰就此永远伸不直。然而我承认，我实在巴不得亲一亲她的嘴唇；想问她一句话，使她张开她的嘴来；想注视她那目光下垂的眼睛上的睫毛，而不致使她脸红；想解开她那波浪般卷曲的头发——这头发，即使得到一英寸，也是无价之宝的纪念品。总而言之，我极愿意享受到孩子们的最轻微的放纵自由，同时又像大人似的懂得这种自由的可贵。
但是这时候听见有人在敲门了，大家立刻都奔过去，她带着笑脸，穿着被扯乱的衣服，给拥在这一群脸儿通红的、吵吵嚷嚷的孩子中间，一直被推到门口去，刚好及时地迎接回家来的父亲。父亲背后跟随着一个捧着不少圣诞节玩具和礼物的人。接着是一片大嚷大闹，争先恐后地对这毫无防备的门房展开猛烈的攻击！拿椅子当作梯子，爬到他身上去，伸手到他口袋里去挖，把那些牛皮纸包从他手里抢夺过来，紧紧地抓住他的领结，搂住他的脖子，用拳头捶着他的背脊，以乐不可支的亲热劲儿踢他的腿！每个包裹打开时引起了一大阵惊奇和欣喜的喊叫声！接着有人骇人听闻地声称：那婴孩正要把一个玩具煎锅塞进嘴去，而且好像已经把一只胶在木头碟子上的假火鸡吞到肚里去了！后来发现这是一场虚惊，大家又是多么的快慰啊！那份欢欣、感激和狂喜呀！他们的行动都是言语所无法形容地相似。只要说这一句就够了：这些孩子们带着他们的欢乐情绪逐渐地离开了客厅，一步跨一级楼梯，一直走到屋子的最高层，上床去睡觉了，这一场喧闹才平静下来。
这时斯克掳奇比以前更用心地瞧着了，只见这一家的主人，把女儿拉过来亲热地偎在身上，然后跟她和她的母亲在自己的炉旁一起坐下来；斯克掳奇想到另一个这样的孩子，同样的俊秀和富有前途，满可能称他为父亲，并且成为他萧瑟的暮年中的一段春日的，这时候，他的眼睛不禁被泪水沾得十分模糊了。
“贝儿，”那丈夫回过头来，笑着对他的妻子说，“今天下午我看见了你的一个老朋友。”
“谁啊？”
“猜猜看！”
“我怎么猜得着？得了，我还会不知道？”她一口气接下去说，同他一样地笑着，“斯克掳奇先生。”
“正是斯克掳奇先生。我经过他办公室的窗外，因为窗子没有关上，而且里面又点着蜡烛，我不免看见了他。他的合伙人躺在床上快死了，我听人说；他独个儿坐在那里。孤零零地一个人在世上，我相信正是这样。”
“幽灵！”斯克掳奇声音哽咽地说，“把我从这地方带走吧。”
“我对你讲过，这些都是往事的影子，”幽灵说。“至于它们今天是这副本来面目，那你别责怪我！”
“把我带走吧！”斯克掳奇叫道，“我实在受不了啦！”
他转身面对着幽灵，只见它正在瞧着他，而它的那张脸，说也奇怪，竟是它刚才指点给他看的那些脸的片段拼凑起来的，他就跟它揪打起来。
“放开我！带我回去。不要再跟我作祟了！”
如果这能算是搏斗的话，那么，在这场搏斗中，他用足了气力，但那幽灵却显然一点都不抵抗，也丝毫不感到惊慌；斯克掳奇在搏斗中看见，那幽灵头上的光照得又高又亮；他迷迷糊糊地认为这幽灵对他的作祟是跟它的光有关系的，就抓住了那顶熄灯帽，出其不意地往下揿在它头上。
那幽灵在帽子下面瘫倒下去，这样，这顶熄灯帽就盖住了它的整个身体；但是尽管斯克掳奇用尽平生之力把帽子往下揿，却仍旧遮不住那道光[24]，它从帽子下面放射出来，毫不间断地泻照在地上。
他感到筋疲力尽，瞌睡难当；而且还发现正在自己的卧室里。他把那顶帽子最后捏了一把，就松了手；人刚刚摇摇晃晃地倒在床上，就立刻陷入酣睡之中。

[1] 雪貂：一种似黄鼠狼的食肉动物，多为白毛，眼睛红而锐利，善于捕食兔、鼠等。英国人有带雪貂行猎者。
[2] 打簧表为十八、十九世纪欧洲流行的一种表，内装小铃，揿动弹簧即能报时刻。
[3] 美国的债券：在本故事发生的这个时期，美国正发生经济大恐慌，使美国债券成为很不值钱的东西。
[4] 稀奇古怪的形象：这个幽灵是斯克掳奇在老年时对自己幼年时的回忆所得的形象，所以似少又老。
[5] 熄灯帽为一种熄灭灯火用的铅质锥形筒。
[6] 这里有玩弄别人，把别人戴的帽子硬揿到眼睛边的意思。
[7] 这里是说斯克掳奇回忆起他做孩子时待的住读学校里的生活是多么艰苦。这种学校狄更斯在他的好几部小说中都描述过，特别是《大卫·考坡菲》和《尼古拉斯·尼克尔贝》。
[8] 这里是说斯克掳奇在孤单单地读书，正幻想着有书中的英雄人物来同他做伴。这也正是狄更斯在描述他自己儿时的经历，他在《大卫·考坡菲》中就有过同样的叙述。
[9] 阿里巴巴：《一千零一夜》中的人物之一。他本是一个以砍柴为生的穷樵夫，后来因发现四十个大盗的宝窟，并设计尽歼群盗，终于成为一个富人。
[10] 伐兰坦和奥逊是法国中世纪骑士故事中的主人公，他们是一对孪生兄弟。
[11] 鲁滨孙为英国作家但尼尔·笛福（1660—1731）的长篇小说《鲁滨孙漂流记》中的主人公。他在荒岛上养了只鹦哥，还收容了一个土人，取名“礼拜五”。
[12] 圣诞节期：从十二月廿四日圣诞节前夕一直到翌年一月六日主显节。
[13] 威尔士假发：十七、十八世纪时，英国上流社会及法官、律师、演员等，以戴假发（原产于威尔士）为时髦。这里指的是一种白色小型的卷曲假发。
[14] 玩这种游戏时，犯规者须交出身上的一件东西，等经过某种开玩笑的处罚后，才能发还。
[15] 尼格斯酒为用葡萄酒、糖、柠檬汁和豆蔻混合制成的热饮料。
[16] 明治攀是碎肉或百果做的馅饼。
[17] 一种苏格兰乡村舞蹈及乐曲。
[18] 这句话指费昔威舞步轻快。作者在这里玩弄了一次文字游戏，因为原文“light”一词在英语中既可作“轻快”解，又可作“光明”解。
[19] 男子行鞠躬礼，妇女行屈膝礼。
[20] 舞蹈中的一种老式舞步，舞者跃起，双足腾空踢动，然后落地。
[21] 孝服：表示哀悼的黑色衣服。
[22] 英国当时的风俗是，女儿将出嫁时，父母要给她一笔钱或财产，称作嫁资或嫁妆。没有嫁妆的姑娘是不受欢迎的。
[23] 指英国诗人威廉·华兹华斯（1770—1850）的《写于三月》，其中有名句云：“四十头牛食草，静如一头。”
[24] 这光就是记忆之光，尽管斯克掳奇不愿回忆自己的过去，但往事既已勾起，就再也无法把它完全扑灭了。

第三节歌
三幽灵中的第二个
斯克掳奇从鼾声大作中醒过来，在床上坐起定了定神，根本用不着人家来告诉他，就知道钟又将敲一点了。他觉得自己正好在这紧要关头醒过来，就是特地为了要和那第二个使者来一次会晤，而这个使者正是由于雅各·马利的干预，才到他这里来的。但是当他开始猜想这个新幽灵会把他帐子的哪一边拉开时，他觉得自己很不舒服地发起冷来，便索性用自己的手把每一边的帐子都拉开来，然后再在床上躺下，对床的四周保持严密的警戒，因为他打算在这幽灵一出现时，就向它挑战，而不愿意突然遭到袭击，弄得惊惶失措。
那些悠闲自在、不拘形迹的先生们，自负有那么两下子，而且是分外通晓世事，善于审时应变的，为了要表示他们在冒险应变方面神通广大，就说他们从掷钱游戏到杀人勾当，任何事情都是擅长的；而在这两个相反的极端之间，无疑地还有着范围相当广泛的许多事情。我固然不敢把斯克掳奇说得这么有能耐，可是我愿意请你们相信，他是准备看到范围相当广泛的各种稀奇古怪的东西出现的，从一个小娃娃直到一头大犀牛之间，无论什么东西出现都不会使他太惊骇。
如今，正因为他准备看见差不多任何东西，他才毫无准备会一无所见；因此，当钟鸣一下，而并无鬼影出现时，他禁不住剧烈地发起抖来。五分钟，十分钟，一刻钟过去了，可是什么都没有出现。在这一段时间里，他一直躺在床上，处于一道红光的核心和中央，这道光是在钟敲一点时就照射在他身上的；而且，由于只是一道光，竟比一二十个鬼更惊人，因为他既无法了解它的用意是什么，也不知道它打算怎么样；有些时候他更深怕自己当时会自燃[1]起来，成为一个有趣的事例，事先却一点也没有思想准备。然而，到了最后，他开始想到——至于你我，是一开头就会想到的，因为旁观者清，只有不置身在困境中的人才知道应该怎样去应付这种境遇，并且毫无疑问地会这样去做——到了最后，我刚才说，他才开始想到，这道鬼光的来源和奥秘，可能就在隔壁的那个房间里，因为他再把这道光的踪迹追寻了一下，发现它似乎就是从那个房间里照射出来的。他心里既然完全存了这个想法，就轻轻地从床上起来，趿着拖鞋走到房门口去。
斯克掳奇的手刚碰到锁上，一个陌生的口音就叫了一声他的名字，而且吩咐他进去。他遵命做了。
那是他自己的房间。这一点是毫无疑问的。但是这个房间已经起了惊人的变化。四壁和天花板上都挂满了活的绿色植物，看起来完全像是一座小丛林，亮晶晶的浆果在丛林里的每一个地方闪耀着。冬青、檞寄生和常青藤[2]的鲜嫩的叶子把这些亮光反射出来，好像有许多小镜子散布在那儿似的；熊熊的火焰直向烟囱里轰轰地上蹿，无论是在斯克掳奇的时期、马利的时期，还是过去许许多多的冬季里，这个阴沉的化石般的壁炉里都从未有过这样猛烈的火焰。堆在地板上，形成一个宝座似的，是火鸡、鹅、野味、家禽、腌肉、大块的腿肉、乳猪、一长串一长串的香肠、明治攀、葡萄干布丁、一桶桶的牡蛎、火热的栗子、像孩儿脸般红彤彤的苹果、多汁的橘子、甘美的生梨、庞大的主显节[3]饼，以及煮沸的一碗碗五味酒[4]，它们冒出来的芬芳的热气，把这个房间都熏得模糊了。在这里的榻上坐着一个兴高采烈的巨人，气派堂皇，手里拿着一根通红的火把，形状同象征丰饶的羊角[5]不无相似之处，他把它高高地举起，等斯克掳奇走到房门口来张望的时候，火把的光正好照在他身上。
“进来！”这幽灵叫道。“进来！同我多熟悉熟悉，朋友！”
斯克掳奇畏畏缩缩地走了进去，在这幽灵面前低头站着。他已经不是从前那个冥顽不灵的斯克掳奇了；虽则那幽灵的眼光是明朗和善的，他却不愿意和它接触。
“我是‘现在圣诞节之灵’，”这幽灵说，“对我看！”
斯克掳奇就恭而敬之地照办了。只见它穿着一件朴素的绿色长袍，或是大氅，周围用白的毛皮镶边。这件衣服宽松地披在它身上，它那宽阔的胸部都露了出来，仿佛不屑被人为的衣饰所卫护或遮掩。从衣服的宽大的褶裥下面，看得见它的一双脚也是赤露着的；它的头上不戴别的东西，只戴着一个冬青编的花冠，上面到处点缀着闪闪发光的冰柱。它那深褐色的鬈发很长，随便地披着，就像它那和蔼的脸儿、闪光的眼睛、张开的手掌、愉快的声音、自在的举止和快乐的气氛那样地随便不羁。它的腰间佩着一把古老的剑鞘，可是里面没有剑，而且这古老的剑鞘已经长满了锈。
“你从来没有见过像我这样的吧！”幽灵叫道。
“从来没有，”斯克掳奇回答它。
“从来没有同我家里比较年轻的成员们一起走动过吧？我的意思是说，在最近几年里诞生的我的哥哥们，因为我的年纪是很小的，”幽灵不放松地说。
“我想我是没有这样做过，”斯克掳奇说。“我恐怕是没有这样做过。你有许多兄弟么，幽灵？”
“有一千八百多个[6]，”这鬼说。
“这可是一个很不容易赡养的大家庭啊！”斯克掳奇嘀咕着说。
“现在圣诞节之灵”站起身来。
“幽灵呵，”斯克掳奇恭顺地说，“带我到你要带我去的地方吧。昨天夜里我是被逼出去的，可是我已经得到了一种教训，这教训现在正在起作用了。今天夜里，如果你有什么要教导我的话，那就让我得到教益吧。”
“轻轻地抓住我的袍子！”
斯克掳奇遵照他的吩咐做了，把袍子紧紧抓住。
冬青、檞寄生、红浆果、常青藤、火鸡、鹅、野味、家禽、腌肉、鲜肉、猪、香肠、牡蛎、馅饼、布丁、水果和五味酒，立刻全都消失了。那个房间、壁炉、通红的火光、夜间的钟点，也全都消失了，他们已经站在圣诞节早晨的城里的街道上。因为天气寒冷得很，人们在把住宅前面人行道上和屋顶上的雪都铲掉，发出了一种聒噪、轻快但并不难听的乐声，而最使孩子们欣喜若狂的是看见雪从屋顶上沉重地落到下面路上，碎裂成人造的小暴风雪。
同屋顶上那一片平滑洁白的积雪以及地面上稍微肮脏些的雪对照之下，房屋的正面就显得相当黝黑，而窗户也显得更黑了。街上的积雪都已经被那些大车和货车的沉重的车轮犁成深深的沟畦；在那几条大街分岔出去的地方，这些沟畦重复交叉了不知有几百次，造成了许多纵横交错的水渠，在那很稠的黄泥浆和冰冷的水里，简直找不出它们的途径来。天空是阴郁的，那些最短的街道上都充塞着一片半融解半冻洁的污秽的雾气，其中较重的微粒就成为一种煤灰[7]，像阵雨般落下来，仿佛大不列颠所有的烟囱都一起着起火来，正在称心如意地燃烧着。拿气候或是这城市来说，这儿并没有什么令人感到十分快乐的地方，然而却布满着一种快乐的气氛，即使最清净的夏季空气和最晴朗的夏季太阳，也决计散发不出来。
因为，那些在屋顶上铲雪的人，都是兴高采烈，满怀快乐的；他们从胸墙边大着嗓子你叫我唤，有时候还寻开心地把雪球抛来抛去——这是一种比口头的玩笑更富有友好意味的飞弹——如果打中了的话就哈哈大笑，如果打偏了的话也笑得同样地起劲。家禽铺子的门刚开了一半，水果铺则是五光十色。又大又圆、肚皮鼓出的栗子篮——模样儿就像快活的老先生们所穿的背心——在门口斜靠着，它们身体肥胖，易患中风，就这么摔倒在街上。褐色的脸色泛着红的、腰围很宽的西班牙球葱，像西班牙修道士般长得肥肥胖胖，油光锃亮；当姑娘们走过去时，它们就从架子上对她们挤眉弄眼，一派调皮放肆的样子，并且假装正经地瞟瞟挂在上面的檞寄生[8]。梨啊，苹果啊，都叠得高高的，堆成了壮丽的金字塔；一串串的葡萄，由于水果铺老板的好心肠，悬挂在特别触目的钩子上，使得人们在经过的时候嘴里禁不住会流出口水来，而不费分文；一堆堆带着苔藓的褐色榛子，它们所发出的香气，使人回忆起森林中的古老道路，以及在深可没踝的枯叶堆里，愉快地蹒跚行走的情景；还有烹调用的诺福克苹果，矮胖胖、黑黝黝的，把橘子和柠檬的黄颜色衬托得格外鲜明，而且因为它们那多汁水的身体长得非常结实，它们迫切地恳求人们把它们装在纸袋里带回家去，在饭后把它们吃掉。那些金色和银色的鱼，盛在一只缸里，安置在这些精美的水果中间，它们虽然属于一个呆笨迟钝的族类，似乎也知道现今正有什么事情在发生着；而且，所有的鱼都一样，全在它们那小小的天地里，带着缺乏热情的兴奋，喘着气大兜其圈子。
杂货铺呢——哦，杂货铺呀！——差不多已经打烊了，大概已经上了两扇或者一扇护窗板，但是从那些窗缝里可真有看头呢！不仅仅是磅秤落到柜台上发出的悦耳声音，或者麻线与滚轴很爽快地分了手，或者罐子[9]给拿上拿下，砰砰作响，像变戏法似的，或者甚至茶叶和咖啡的混合香气闻在鼻子里是那么舒服，或者甚至葡萄干是那么丰富和珍贵，杏仁又是那么洁白异常，肉桂枝那么长而且直，其余的那些香料那么味美，蜜饯糖果做成圆饼，沾上了糖浆，使得最冷淡的旁观者看了都要觉得头晕嘴馋，而且事后大发胃气痛。也不仅仅是因为无花果都是湿润而柔软的；法兰西李子带着些微的酸涩，在它们那些装潢得很漂亮的盒子里，红着脸儿害臊，或是，一切的东西都是好吃的，并且都穿着它们的圣诞节盛装；实在是因为顾客们在这充满希望的大好日子里，大家都是那么匆忙和那么急切，以致在门口彼此碰撞，鲁莽地撞坏了他们的柳条篮，把他们买的东西遗忘在柜台上，再奔回来拿，此外，还怀着好得不能再好的心情，犯下了许多诸如此类的错误；而杂货铺老板和他的店员们，又都是那么真诚坦白和精神抖擞，使得他们用来把围裙扎在背后的那些闪闪发亮的心形东西[10]，就像是他们自己的心，露出在外面让大家来检查，并且让圣诞节的穴鸟[11]高兴来啄的时候就可以来啄。
但是不久，礼拜堂屋顶尖塔上的钟声召唤善良的人们都到礼拜堂和小教堂去，他们便都去了，穿着他们最好的衣服，带着最愉快的面容，成群结队从街上走过去。同时，从几十条小街、狭巷和无名的角落里，涌出了无数的人，把他们的膳食带到面包房去[12]。幽灵看到这些寻欢作乐的贫苦人，似乎非常感兴趣，因为它站在一家面包房的门口（斯克掳奇就站在它身旁），等到他们经过时，把那些饭盒的盖子揭开，从它的火把里洒下一点香料到他们的膳食里。而这火把又是一个极不平凡的火把，因为有一两次，几个带膳食的人由于互相碰撞而发生口角的时候，它从火把里洒了几点水在他们身上，他们那愉快的心情就立刻恢复了。因为他们说，在圣诞节争吵是一件可耻的事情！这的确是一件可耻的事情！上帝保佑，的确是这样的！
后来钟声停止了，面包房关上了门；可是在每个面包房炉灶上面那一片融解了的潮湿斑迹上，亲切地隐约显示出所有这些膳食，和它们进行烧煮的过程，连灶面上铺着的石头也冒着烟，仿佛它们也在烧煮着。
“你从你火把上洒出来的东西可有一种特别味道吗？”斯克掳奇问。
“有啊。我自己的味道。”
“是不是今天随便哪种饭食上都洒上它呢？”斯克掳奇问。
“友好地洒给每一种饭食。大都是给一种穷苦的饭食。”
“为什么大都是给穷苦的饭食呢？”
“因为穷苦的饭食最需要它。”
“幽灵啊，”斯克掳奇想了想后说，“我觉得奇怪的是：在我们周围这大千世界的芸芸众生中，对这些人的清白无辜的享受机会横加阻碍的，偏偏是你。”
“我！”幽灵叫起来。
“他们每逢第七天[13]进正餐一次，而这一天往往就是它们能够称为进正餐的唯一日子，你却要把他们这点点机会都剥夺掉，”斯克掳奇说。“你不就是这样吗？”
“我！”幽灵叫道。
   
“你要在第七天把这些地方都关掉，”斯克掳奇说。“这事实上还不是一样。”
“我要这样！”幽灵惊叫道。
“如果我讲错了，那就请你宽恕我。这事情是利用你的名义来做的，或者至少是利用你家族的名义的，”斯克掳奇说。
“在你们这尘世上，”幽灵说，“是有这样的一批人，他们自称认识我们，他们利用了我们的名义，来干他们那些纵欲、骄傲、恶意、憎恨、嫉妒、顽固和自私的勾当。他们跟我们，以及我们所有的亲戚朋友们，都是素不相识的，就好像他们从来没有在这世上生活过一样。记住这一点，并且叫他们干下的勾当由他们自己来负责，不要由我们来负责吧。”
斯克掳奇答应一定记住；于是他们继续向前走，而人们看不见他们，就像先前那样，一直走到了城市的郊区。这幽灵有一种特别的长处（这是斯克掳奇在面包房里就看出来的），那就是：他的身材虽则庞大无比，但能轻松自如地适应任何场所；他站在一个低矮屋檐下的优雅气度，正如一位超自然的人物，就同他站在任何一座高大的厅堂里一样。
也许是由于这位善良的幽灵乐于施展自己的这种法力，或是出于他自己那仁慈、慷慨、热诚的性格，以及他对于所有穷苦人的同情，才使他一直走到斯克掳奇的雇员家里去；因为他正在往那里走，而且带了斯克掳奇一同去，斯克掳奇拉着他的袍子；到了大门的门槛前，幽灵笑了，就停下来拿火把洒一洒法水，祝福鲍勃·克拉吉的这所住宅。你想想看！鲍勃自己一个礼拜只挣十五个“鲍勃”[14]；他每逢礼拜六装进口袋的只有十五个和他大名相同的东西；可是这“现在圣诞节之灵”却祝福了他这四间房的屋子！
那时只见克拉吉夫人，克拉吉的妻子，站起身来，她穿着一件翻制过两次的长大衣，样子很寒伧，但是结着色彩鲜艳的缎带，带子价钱便宜，花六个便士就打扮得蛮好看了；她在铺着桌布。她的第二个女儿，贝琳达·克拉吉也扎着很鲜艳的缎带，正在帮她的忙；同时彼得·克拉吉少爷正把一把叉插进一锅马铃薯，并且把他那其大无比的衬衫领头（这是鲍勃的私人财产，为了庆祝节日特地授给他的儿子和继承人的）的尖角弄到自己的嘴巴里去，他发现自己穿着得这么华丽，感到十分快活，便急于要到那些时髦的公园里去把这件亚麻布衬衫出出风头。这时，那两个年纪最小的克拉吉，一男一女，飞快地奔进来，一边尖声叫着，说他们在面包房外面闻到了鹅的香气，就知道这是为他们家烤的；这两个小克拉吉，把洋苏叶和球葱[15]想得其味无穷，就绕着桌子跳起舞来，并且把那位彼得·克拉吉少爷吹捧得上了天，而他（虽然领头几乎叫他透不过气来，却并不骄傲）却在吹着火，直到那些煮起来很慢的马铃薯都沸腾起来，响亮地撞着锅子的盖，要求把它们放出来剥皮。
“怎么，你们那宝贝的父亲碰上什么了，”克拉吉夫人说，“还有你们的哥哥小丁姆？还有玛莎，上次圣诞日她半个钟头都没有迟到呢！”
“玛莎来啦，妈妈！”一位姑娘边说边走进来。
“玛莎来啦，妈妈！”那两个小克拉吉叫道。“好哇！有这么大的一只鹅呢，玛莎。”
“哎，主保佑你，亲爱的，你来得多么晚啊！”克拉吉夫人说，吻了她一二十遍，格外殷勤地替她把围巾、帽子都拿下来。
“昨天夜里我们有许多事情要干完，”这姑娘回答说，“今天早晨又必须收拾干净，妈妈！”
“好吧！你已经来啦，咱们就不谈这些吧，”克拉吉夫人说。“亲爱的，你在火炉前面坐下来取取暖吧，主保佑你！”
“不，不！父亲就要来了，”这两个小克拉吉叫道，他们到处蹦跳着。“躲起来，玛莎，躲起来！”
玛莎就躲了起来，果然那矮小的父亲鲍勃走进来了，他胸前挂着一条围巾，至少有三英尺长，流苏还不算在内；他那旧得露出底板的衣服，已经打好补钉，刷个干净，以便像个过节的样子；肩头上还驮着一个小丁姆。可怜的小丁姆啊，他拿着一根小拐杖，他的四肢都用铁架子撑着！
“怎么，我们的玛莎在哪儿？”鲍勃·克拉吉看看周围，叫道。
“没有来，”克拉吉夫人说。
“没有来！”鲍勃说，他的一团高兴立刻低落下来；因为他从礼拜堂一路给丁姆当骏马，驮着他跳跳蹦蹦地奔回来。“圣诞节的时候不来！”
玛莎不愿意看见他失望，即使只是闹着玩；因此时机虽然还没到，她已经从壁橱门的背后走了出来，扑到他怀里；另外那两个小克拉吉却拥住了小丁姆，把他带到洗衣间去，让他可以听听布丁在铜锅[16]里唱歌的声音。
“还有，小丁姆乖么？”克拉吉夫人问，这时候她已经把鲍勃的上当取笑了一番，而鲍勃也已经把他女儿称心如意地搂抱了一番。
“乖得很呢，”鲍勃说，“简直十二万分地乖。不知怎的，他独个儿坐得太久了，就想起心事来，他想的才是你听都没有听见过的怪事儿呢。在我们回家来的时候，他告诉我说，因为他是一个跛子，他希望大家在礼拜堂里都看见他，这样就会使他们想起，在圣诞节这一天，是谁[17]使跷脚的乞丐能走路，瞎眼的盲人能看见的，从而感到愉快。”
   
当鲍勃把这话告诉大家的时候，他的声音激动得都发抖了，而当他说到小丁姆已经长得越来越壮健的时候，他的声音激动得更厉害了。
还没来得及再说一句话，已经听得见小丁姆那活跃的拐杖在地板上笃笃地响着回来了，他的哥哥姐姐都护卫着他，把他送到壁炉边的小凳上；同时鲍勃呢，翻起了袖口——这可怜的人，仿佛生怕袖口还会给弄得更破旧似的——在一只大口杯里，把杜松子烧酒和柠檬掺合成一种热的混合饮料，搅了又搅，然后放在炉旁的保温铁架上去慢慢地炖着；彼得少爷和那两位满天飞的小克拉吉出去取鹅，一会儿就声势浩大地列队回来了。
接下来的那一阵忙乱，使你也许会以为一只鹅是一切鸟类中最珍贵的，是一种长着羽毛的奇物，即使黑天鹅[18]跟它比起来，也不过是件很平常的东西罢了——而事实上，它在这家人家的确很像这样的一件珍品。克拉吉太太把肉汁（已经预先在一只小锅子里烧好）炖得滚烫，嘶嘶地在响着；彼得少爷把马铃薯捣碎，那股劲儿真大得令人难以相信；贝琳达小姐在苹果沙司里加上糖；玛莎把热的盘子都擦干净；鲍勃把小丁姆带在身边，坐在桌旁一个小角落里；还有那两个小克拉吉在给大家摆着座椅，也不忘记给他们自己摆好，然后坐在他们的岗位上守望着，一边用汤匙塞住嘴巴，生怕分菜还没有轮到他们的时候，就叫着要吃鹅。最后，盘子都摆好了，餐前的谢恩祷告也做过了。接着便是一阵屏气凝神的停顿，这时候克拉吉太太对那把切肉刀从头至尾慢慢地端详了一会，准备把它插进鹅的胸部去；等她把刀子插进去，大家盼望已久的鹅肚子里塞的东西都涌出来时，桌子四周就一齐发出了喜悦的声音，甚至小丁姆，被这两个小克拉吉弄得激动起来，也用餐刀的柄在桌子上敲着，有气无力地喊着“好哇！”
从来还不曾有过这样的一只鹅。鲍勃说他不相信有人烧出过这样好的鹅来。它又嫩又鲜，肥大而便宜，成为大家一致赞美的话题。加上苹果沙司和马铃薯泥，它足够让全家饱餐一顿；的确，正像克拉吉太太兴高采烈地说的（眼睛衡量着菜盆子里的一小粒骨头），他们到底没有把它全吃掉呢！可是每一个人都已经吃得很够了，尤其是那两个顶小的克拉吉，简直都沉浸在洋苏叶和球葱里，一直浸到眉毛边！可是这时贝琳达小姐已经换过盆子，克拉吉太太就独自一个人离开这房间——她实在太紧张了，不愿让旁人看到——去拿起布丁，送进房来。
万一它还没有煮透了呢！万一在翻出来时它裂开来呢！万一他们在前面吃鹅吃得很开心的时候，有什么人翻过后院的墙头把它偷走了呢——想到这里，那两个小克拉吉急得脸儿都发青了！总之，各式各样可怕的事情都担心到了。
嗬！那么多的热气！布丁已经从铜锅里拿出来了。一股像洗衣日[19]的气味！就是那块布嘛！就像吃食店的隔壁开了一家糕点铺，糕点铺隔壁开了一家洗衣作坊，才有这么一股味儿！这就是那个布丁！半分钟之后，克拉吉太太进来了，脸儿涨得通红，可是得意地笑着，手上捧着那只布丁，像一颗颜色斑驳的炮弹似的，又坚硬又结实，周围燃烧着四分之一品脱[20]的一半的一半的白兰地[21]，顶上装饰着一根圣诞节的冬青树枝。
啊，一只多了不起的布丁！鲍勃·克拉吉说（而且是平心静气地说的）他认为这是他们结婚以来克拉吉太太所获得的最伟大的成功。克拉吉太太就说，既然她心里的一块石头现在总算放下了，她要承认，这次做布丁所用的面粉数量，她有点不放心。大家对这个问题都发表了一点意见，但是没有一个人说到或是想到，对一个大家庭来说，这只布丁未免太小了。如果这样说或这样想的话，那简直是离经叛道之谈了。克拉吉家里的任何一个人，哪怕露出一点点这种意思，也会羞得面红耳赤的。
最后，饭吃完了，台布收拾清爽了，壁炉打扫干净了，炉火也添旺了。壶里的五味酒已经尝过了，被认为尽善尽美，苹果和橘子都放到了桌子上，一满铲的栗子放到了炉火上。于是克拉吉全家的人都围着火炉坐下，成为鲍勃·克拉吉所说的团团一圈，意思其实是指的半个圈儿；在鲍勃·克拉吉的手肘边陈列着他那套家藏的玻璃器皿，两只大口酒杯和一只没有柄的牛奶蛋糕杯。
然而，这几只杯子里却盛着壶里的热酒，真不亚于黄金铸成的酒盅。鲍勃笑容满面地把酒一杯一杯斟出来，火上的栗子正在毕毕剥剥地响着，爆裂着。于是鲍勃举杯祝颂道：
“我的亲人们，祝我们大家圣诞快乐。上帝保佑我们！”
全家都重复说了这句话。
“上帝保佑我们每一个人！”小丁姆最后一个说。
他坐在他父亲身边的小凳上，靠得很近。鲍勃把他那只枯萎的小手握在自己手里，仿佛他疼爱这个孩子，只想把他留在自己身边，而唯恐被人从他那里夺走。
“幽灵啊，”斯克掳奇带着一种他以前从未有过的关怀说，“告诉我，小丁姆将来能不能活下去？”
“我看见一个空的座位，”幽灵回答说，“放在那可怜的烟囱角落里，还有一根没有了主儿的拐杖，郑重地被保存着。如果‘将来’不把这些阴暗的东西加以改变的话，这孩子是要死的。”
“不，不，”斯克掳奇说。“哦，仁慈的幽灵啊，不要这样！说他会得到幸免吧。”
“如果‘将来’不把这些阴暗的东西加以改变的话，我这一族里没有一个人会在那里找到他，”幽灵说道。“那又怎么样呢？如果他宁愿死的话，他还是死掉的好，而且也可以减少过剩的人口。”
斯克掳奇听见幽灵所引用的正是他自己从前讲过的话，不禁低下了头，不胜其愧悔和伤心。
“人啊，”幽灵说，“如果你心肠里有的是人性，而不是顽石，你就应该放弃你那种恶毒的高调，先弄弄清楚，所谓过剩的人口究竟是些什么人，在什么地方？什么样的人该活，什么样的人该死，是不是都要由你来决定呢？也许，在上帝的眼里看来，你比千百万个像这穷人的孩子那样的人更没有价值，更不配活下去呢。上帝啊！听听看：一只在树叶上饱餐的虫子竟然宣称，他那些在尘埃里挨饿的同胞们不如多死掉几个来得好哪！”
斯克掳奇挨到幽灵的责备，低下了头，一边发着抖，一边把眼睛望着地面。但是他听见有人在叫他的姓氏，就赶紧把眼睛往上看。
“斯克掳奇先生！”鲍勃说。“我向你们提出斯克掳奇先生，这宴会的创办人！”
“宴会的创办人，真是！”克拉吉太太叫道，脸儿都气红了。“我但愿他本人在这儿。那时我倒要教训教训他，让他好好听一顿，希望他有这种好胃口。”
“亲爱的，”鲍勃说。“孩子们在听着！今天是圣诞节啊。”
“只有在圣诞节这一天，我相信，”她说，“人家才会为一个像斯克掳奇先生那样叫人讨厌、小气刻薄、无情无义的人举杯祝他健康。你知道他就是这样的人，罗伯特！没有人比你知道得更清楚的了，可怜的人儿！”
“亲爱的！”鲍勃还是温和地回答说，“这是圣诞节啊。”
“我要为了你和这个节日的缘故来为他祝酒，”克拉吉太太说，“但不是为了他本人的缘故！祝他长寿！圣诞愉快，新年欢乐！他一定会很愉快很欢乐的，我相信！”
孩子们跟着她举杯祝酒。今晚这还是第一次，他们对所做的事情毫不起劲。小丁姆最后一个举杯，可是他才不高兴做这种事情哩。斯克掳奇是他们这一家子的厉鬼克星。只要一提到他的名字，就会使这个宴会蒙上一层阴影，足足有五分钟还消除不掉。
等这桩事过去后，他们比原来快活十倍了，仅仅是因为跟那不吉利的斯克掳奇已经打完交道，大家才都轻松起来，鲍勃·克拉吉告诉他们，说他怎样已经替彼得少爷物色了一个职位，这个职位如果能弄到的话，每个星期就会有足足五先令半的收入。那两个小克拉吉一听到彼得要做生意人了，就笑得不可开交；彼得自己呢，从他那领子中间沉思地看着炉火，仿佛正在深思熟虑，一旦收到那一笔令人张皇失措的进款时，他该向什么地方去投资。接着，玛莎——她是一家女帽铺的可怜的学徒——就告诉他们，她必须做什么样的工作，她一口气要工作多少钟点，以及她怎样打算明天早晨在床上睡个够，好好地休息休息，因为明天是她可以在家里度过的一个例假日。她还说她怎样在几天前看见一位伯爵夫人和一位爵爷，那位爵爷“跟彼得差不多高”；彼得一听见这话，便把领子拉拉高，高得你都看不见他的脑袋了，如果你在那儿的话。在这整段时间里，栗子和酒壶都不断地递来递去。一会儿，他们就听见小丁姆唱起歌来，这歌唱的是一个迷路的小孩怎样在雪地里跋涉；小丁姆的嗓音凄凉而轻微，确实唱得极好。
这儿并没有什么高水平的地方。他们不是一个小康之家；他们穿着得并不讲究；他们的皮鞋都远不是不漏水的；他们的衣服都很单薄；而且彼得可能知道——很可能知道——当铺的里边是什么样子的。但是他们全都快乐、感激，彼此很亲切，并且对目前的景况心满意足。当他们在那幽灵临别所洒的明亮的法水中逐渐消逝时，他们显得更快乐了；斯克掳奇把眼睛一直看着他们，尤其是看着小丁姆，一直看到最后。
这时候天色已经暗起来了，雪下得很大；斯克掳奇和幽灵沿着街上走过去时，家家的厨房、客厅以及各种各样的房间里，都是炉火熊熊，亮得不得了。这儿，火光的闪耀中显出一家人家正在准备一顿舒适的晚餐，热的盘子在火炉前面烘了又烘；还有深红色的窗帷，随时可以拉拢，把寒冷和黑暗挡在外面。在那边，这户人家所有的孩子都跑到雪地里去迎接他们那些已经结婚的姐姐、哥哥、堂兄、叔伯和婶婶，抢着要做头一个迎接他们的人。在这儿，还有客人们欢聚的影子照在窗帘上；在那儿，有一群漂亮的姑娘，都包着头巾，穿着毛皮的靴子，大家嘁嘁喳喳地同时在讲话，轻盈地走到附近某一个邻人的家里去，而在那里，苦恼的是那个独身汉子，眼看她们容光焕发地走进去——这些机灵的女子，她们很明白自己的魅力！
但是，出去参加友好集会的人是那么多，你如果从人数上来判断，那你就会认为：等他们到了亲友们家里，不会有人来欢迎他们，不是每一户人家都期待着接待宾客，并且把壁炉里的火添得旺旺的，有烟囱的一半那么高。祝福这一切，那幽灵是多么的欣喜若狂啊！它裸露出它那宽阔的胸部，张开它那阔大的手掌，向前飘荡而去，用它慷慨的手把它那欢快而无害的喜悦，倾泻给它所接触到的一切东西！那个点路灯的人，跑在前面，把那些幽暗的街道点缀上星星点点的灯光，他身上已穿着好，准备到什么地方去消磨这个晚上。当幽灵经过他身边的时候，这点灯夫高声大笑起来，一点也不知道他自己除了圣诞节之外，一个伴侣也没有。
   
这时候，那幽灵事先毫不关照，他们俩已经站在一片阴暗荒凉的原野上了，在那儿，奇形怪状的粗石块到处乱丢着，仿佛这地方就是巨人们的葬身之处；水喜欢往哪儿流就往哪儿流去；或者本来想流过去，可是被冻住了，流不动了；那儿长着的全是苔藓和金雀花，以及庞杂丛生的草。在西方落山的太阳留下了一道火辣辣的红光，这红光对那片荒地耀眼地照了一会儿，就像一只阴沉的眼睛似的，皱紧了眉头，越沉越下，越沉越下，终于消失在黑夜的浓影中。
“这是什么地方？”斯克掳奇问。
“这是矿工们居住的地方，他们在地下深处劳动着，”幽灵回答说。“可是他们都认得我。瞧！”
一间茅屋的窗里射出一道亮光，他们就赶快向那里跑去。经过了一座泥土和石头所筑的墙，他们发现有一群兴高采烈的人围着一炉很旺的火坐着。一对很老很老的男女，同他们的儿女，以及儿女的儿女，和再下面的一代，都快乐地穿着他们的节日盛装。风在这贫瘠的荒原上怒号着，那老人家正在给他们大家唱一支圣诞节的歌，声音难得高过风声；这是一支他孩提时唱惯的很老的歌；他们时常大家加入合唱。一到他们提高了嗓门的时候，这老人家就唱得相当轻快而响亮；一到他们停下来时，他的精力便又衰退了。
幽灵并不在这儿耽搁，却吩咐斯克掳奇抓紧他的袍子，在荒原上空继续前进，赶到哪儿去呢？不是到海里去吧？正是到海里去。使斯克掳奇大为恐慌的是，他回头一望，只见那最后一部分陆地，一道可怕的山岭，已经被撇下在后面了；海浪汹涌怒号，他的耳朵都被雷鸣般的水声震聋了；海水在那些久被冲蚀的可怕洞窟里激荡个不住，凶猛地想把陆地冲坍。
在一个陷入水中的岩石形成的阴森森的暗礁上，离海岸大约三海里，屹立着一座孤零零的灯塔，海水一年到头擦洗冲击着它。一大堆一大堆的海藻盘结在暗礁的底部，那些风暴鸟[22]——人们可以猜想，它是在风中诞生的，正如海藻是在水中诞生的一样——在礁上飞起飞落，像它们飞掠过的海浪那样。
可是，即使在这样一个地方，两个看守这灯塔的人也生了一炉火，因此从那厚石墙的窗眼里，有一道明亮的光线射出来，照在这可怕的海上。他们坐在一张粗糙的桌子边，伸出了他们长满老茧的手，彼此紧握着，举起罐头里的掺水烧酒，互相祝贺圣诞快乐；而且其中的一个——年纪大些的那一个，脸上布满了种种饱经风霜的创伤，正像一条旧船的船头雕像似的——唱起一支雄壮的歌曲，这歌声就像是刮起了一阵大风。
这幽灵又奔向前去，在那漆黑的、汹涌起伏的海面上空——奔啊，奔啊——直到它告诉斯克掳奇说，离随便哪个地方的海岸都很远了，他们才在一条船上停下来。他们站在操纵着舵轮的舵手旁边，站在船头守望者的旁边，站在值班的高级船员们旁边；黑黝黝的幽灵般的身影站在他们各自的岗位上；但是他们中间的每一个人都在哼着一支圣诞节的曲子，或者怀着一个圣诞节的思念，或者低声地对他的伙伴谈到某一个过去了的圣诞节，言谈之中带着重返家园的希望。船上的每一个人，不管是醒着还是睡着，是好人还是坏人，在这一天的互相交谈中，都比一年之中的任何一天更友好；在某种程度上，共同分享着这个节日的欢乐，同时记起了他所怀念的在远方的人们，并且知道他们是乐于记得他的。
斯克掳奇静听着风的呻吟声，想到要在那寂寞的黑暗中，越过一道陌生的深渊（它的深处藏着一些机密，正如死亡那么深不可测）向前行进，真是一件多么严峻的事情啊。使斯克掳奇大吃一惊的是，当他正在这样想着的时候，忽然听见一阵哈哈大笑的声音。使他格外吃惊的是，他听出这笑声竟是他自己的外甥的声音，并且发现他现在正在一间明亮、干燥、闪光的房间里，而那幽灵正微笑地站在他的身旁，带着一种表示赞许的亲切神情对这位外甥看着！
“哈哈！”斯克掳奇的外甥笑道，“哈哈哈！”
如果你碰巧——这种机会的可能性是很少的——知道有人笑得比斯克掳奇的外甥更愉快，那我只想说，我也很愿意认识认识他。把他介绍给我，我要想法跟他交个朋友。
世事的安排，真可以算是公正、不偏和高尚的了：疾病和忧愁固然是要传染人的，可是世界上再也没有比欢笑和快乐更能传染、更无法抗拒的了。当斯克掳奇的外甥笑成这个样子——捧着他的肚皮，转动着他的脑袋，扭曲着他的脸儿，做出许多最古怪的模样时——斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇也笑得跟他一样起劲。而他们那批聚会在一起的朋友们，也都不甘落后，使劲地笑着。
“哈哈！哈哈，哈哈！”
“他说圣诞节是胡闹，真的！”斯克掳奇的外甥叫道。“而且他的确这样相信。”
“那他更应该害臊了，弗雷德！”斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇怒气冲冲地叫道。为这些娘儿们祝福吧！她们做起事来从来不会不彻底的。她们总是很认真的。
她长得非常漂亮，出奇的漂亮。一张有酒窝的、带着惊诧神情的绝妙的脸儿；一张圆熟的小嘴，似乎生来是给人亲吻的——它无疑正是如此；她下颌上有各种各样好看的小酒窝儿，当她笑的时候就互相融合起来，而那一双眼睛是你在任何小家伙的脸上都从未看见过的，是最最令人愉快的。总而言之，她是一个你会称之为逗引人的女性，你知道；但也是一个令人满意的女性。哦，十十足足地令人满意！
“他真是一个滑稽的老头子，”斯克掳奇的外甥说，“这是千真万确的；他本来是可以更友好些的嘛。不过，他已经是自作自受的了，所以我也不想说什么话来指责他。”
“我相信他是很有钱的，弗雷德，”斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇说。“至少，你常常对我这样说的。”
“那又有什么意思呢，亲爱的！”斯克掳奇的外甥说。“他的财富对他一无好处。他并不拿自己的钱财来做一点好事。他没有用它来使自己生活得更舒服些。他本来可以想到——哈哈哈！——他将来或许能用自己的钱财来使我们得到好处，但是他连这样想一下的乐趣都没有。”
“我容忍不了他，”斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇说。她的姐妹，以及所有其余的女士们，都表示同样的意见。
“嘿，我容忍得了他的！”斯克掳奇的外甥说。“我替他难过；我即使想对他生气，也生不起来。他这种恶劣的脾气究竟使谁吃亏呢？总还是他自己吧。现在他忽然想到不喜欢我们，不肯来跟我们一起吃饭了。后果是什么呢？他不吃这顿饭也不见得有多大损失。”
“其实，我想他是损失了一顿很好的饭，”斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇插嘴说。其他的人都这么说，我们必须承认他们是有资格的裁判员，因为他们刚刚吃过这顿饭。这时，饭后的点心放在桌子上，他们都在灯光下围炉而坐。
“喏！我听见这句话很高兴，”斯克掳奇的外甥说。“因为我对这些年轻的主妇们是不大有信心的。你怎么看，陶泊尔？”
陶泊尔显然正紧盯着斯克掳奇外甥媳妇的一个妹妹，因为他回答说，一个独身的男人是一个可怜的化外之民，无权对这种话题发表意见。于是斯克掳奇外甥媳妇的妹妹——围着花边领纱[23]的胖胖的那一个，不是戴玫瑰花的那一个——脸儿就红起来了。
“再说下去哟，弗雷德，”斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇拍拍手说。“他向来是把话开了头不说完的！他这人真太可笑！”
斯克掳奇的外甥又发出一阵哈哈大笑，而且因为没有法子可以制住这笑的影响（虽然那位胖妹妹竭力在闻着香醋[24]，想忍住笑），大家也就一起跟着大笑了。
“我只是想说，”斯克掳奇的外甥说道，“他不喜欢我们，不肯跟我们一起寻欢作乐，其结果是，照我看来，只有使他自己丧失了一些愉快的时刻，而这种时刻对他是不会有害处的。我相信，他丧失了能使他更加愉快的同伴们，比他在自己的冥想中——不管他待在他那发霉的老写字间里，还是他那满是灰尘的房间里——所能找到的，都要愉快得多。我正是因为可怜他，才特意每年给他这样一个机会，不管他喜欢不喜欢。他可以辱骂圣诞节，一直骂到他死为止，但是，如果他发现我高高兴兴的，一年又一年地到他那儿去，对他说，‘斯克掳奇舅舅，您好哇？’——我敢向他挑战——他总有一天会禁不住觉得圣诞节还不错的。只要这一来能够使他心情愉快地留下五十镑给他那个穷伙计，那就很了不起了；我觉得我昨天是触动了他的。”
现在轮到他们笑了，想到他竟然能触动斯克掳奇。但因为他是一个脾气好透的人，而且不大在乎别人在取笑什么人，所以不管大家怎样在笑，他还是鼓励他们笑个畅，并且很快活地把酒瓶递过去。
喝过茶以后，他们听了些乐曲。因为他们是一个爱好音乐的家庭，而且我能向你保证，当他们唱一支无伴奏的三重唱、四重唱或是一首轮唱曲[25]时，他们都是蛮内行的，特别是陶泊尔，他能够深沉地唱着低音，像一个好歌手似的，而且从来不会唱得额角上青筋暴起，或者为之脸儿涨得通红。斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇弹竖琴弹得很好，除了奏其他各种曲调之外，还弹了一支简单的小曲子（一支算不了什么的曲子，你能在两分钟内就学会用口哨把它吹出来），而这曲子正是一个女孩子所熟悉的，她就是“过去圣诞节之灵”曾经使斯克掳奇回忆起来的那个把他从住读学校里接回去的女孩子。当这一节乐曲响起来时，那幽灵显示给他看过的所有事情，都一齐涌上了他的心头；他的心肠越变越软了；他想到：如果他在许多年以前就能够常常听到这样的曲子，那他也许已经用自己的手培养起有利于自己幸福的人生的仁爱，而不必去请教那位教堂司事[26]埋葬过雅各·马利的铁锹了[27]。
但他们并不把整个夜晚都花在音乐上。过了一会儿，他们玩起罚物游戏来，因为有时候再做做小孩子是很有意思的，而且在圣诞节这样做是再好也没有了，因为在那一天，它的伟大的创始者本身就是一个小孩子。且慢！他们先玩起捉迷藏来了。自然是要玩这个的啰。可是我不相信陶泊尔真正是蒙着眼睛装瞎子，正如我不相信他脚上长着眼睛一样。我的看法是，这是他跟斯克掳奇的外甥预先串通的一出把戏；而且“现在圣诞节之灵”也晓得的。他追着披花边领纱的胖妹妹时的那副样子，简直是对人性易于轻信的莫大侮辱。他打落了火钳，绊倒了椅子，撞着了钢琴，给卷住在窗帘里，不管她走到哪儿，他就跟到哪儿！他始终知道胖妹妹正在哪儿。他硬是不捉旁人。如果你故意向他身上倒去（他们中有些人就这样试过），而且站着挡住，他就会假装竭力要来抓住你——这简直是对你的理解力的公然侮辱——然后立刻侧过身来，向胖妹妹那边走去。她常常嚷着说，这样太不公平了；这也确实是不公平。但是最后他终于捉住她了；她虽则浑身穿着绸，窸窣作响，拍着翅膀似的急忙飞过他身旁，他还是把她逼到一个走投无路的角落里，到了这时候，他的举动真是恶劣到极点了。因为他假装不知道就是她；假装必须摸一摸她的头饰，并且为了要证明确实是她，还要把一只什么戒指硬戴在她手指上，一根什么项链硬套在她头颈上；这种种行径真是下流可耻、荒唐透顶！难怪等到另外一个蒙眼人上场的时候，他们走到窗帘后面很隐秘地躲在一起之后，她就把她对这件事的意见向他提出。
   
斯克掳奇的外甥媳妇并没有参加这个捉迷藏游戏，却在一个温暖舒适的角落里，舒舒服服地坐在一张大椅子上，踏着一张脚凳，幽灵和斯克掳奇就近在她的背后。但是她参加了罚物游戏，而且爱她的爱人到了十足崇拜的程度，每个字母为首的字都用上了[28]。在玩“何故、何时、何地”的问答游戏时，她也是个了不起的好手，她的妹妹们虽然也都是些精明的姑娘（陶泊尔会这样告诉你），可是都被她彻底击败了，这使斯克掳奇的外甥心里暗暗高兴。那儿也许有二十个人吧，老的少的都有，但是他们都在玩，斯克掳奇也参加在内了；因为他对于眼前所发生的事情太感兴趣了，他竟然完全忘掉他的声音是他们的耳朵听不见的，有时候也把他自己的猜想相当响亮地喊出来，而且他常常猜中；这就是说，即使是最尖锐的缝衣针，针眼保证不坏的那种最好的“白教堂牌”针，也不会比斯克掳奇更锐利，可是他还以为自己是迟钝的呢。
那幽灵发现他兴致这样好，觉得很高兴，就对他表现出那么宠爱的态度，以致斯克掳奇居然像一个小孩子似的恳求它，准许他逗留到客人散去以后。但幽灵说，这是办不到的。
“这儿又有一种新的游戏，”斯克掳奇说。“再待半个钟头吧，幽灵，只要半个钟头！”
这是一种叫做“是与否”的游戏，斯克掳奇的外甥要在心里想好一样东西，让其余的人把它猜出来，而他对于他们提出的问题只是看情况回答一声是或否。他暴露在像迅猛的炮火般的盘问下，结果吐露出他所想到的东西是一种动物，一种活的动物，而且是一种讨厌的动物，野蛮的动物；这种动物有时候咆哮，有时候嘀咕，有时候讲话，就住在伦敦，在街道上走来走去，没有被人拿去展览，也没有被人牵着，而且不住在一个动物园里，也从来没有在市场上被屠宰；它既不是马，也不是驴，既不是母牛，也不是公牛，也不是老虎、狗、猪、猫、熊。当每一个新的问题向他提出时，这位外甥总要重新哈哈大笑一番，他被逗得那么乐不可支，只好从沙发上跳起来，在地上跺着脚。最后那个胖妹妹，也笑成同一个样儿，叫起来道：
“我猜着啦！我知道它是什么，弗雷德！我知道它是什么！”
“是什么啊？”弗雷德问。
“就是你的舅舅斯克掳—掳—掳—掳—掳奇。”
的确就是他。大家都表示佩服，不过有人抗议说，弗雷德对“是不是狗熊呢？”这句问话，应当回答“是”；因为如果是个否定的回答，那末假如他们曾经想到这方面去的话，这个回答就足以使他们联想不到斯克掳奇先生身上去了[29]。
“说真的，他给了我们许多乐趣，”弗雷德说，“我们如果不喝酒祝他健康，那就未免太忘恩负义了。这儿有一杯烫热的酒[30]，就在我们手边；因此我说，‘为斯克掳奇舅舅干杯！’”
“好啊！为斯克掳奇舅舅干杯！”他们叫道。
“祝他老人家圣诞快乐，新年愉快，不管他是什么样的人！”斯克掳奇的外甥说。“他不肯接受我的祝颂，然而我还是希望他能够得到快乐。为斯克掳奇舅舅干杯！”
斯克掳奇舅舅心里已经不知不觉地变得那么高兴和轻松，因此如果那幽灵给他充分时间的话，他一定会对这一群毫未觉察他在旁的人举杯祝贺作答，而且用他们听不见的说话来感谢他们。但是他外甥那句话的最后一个字刚刚说出口，这幕景象就全部消逝了；他与那幽灵又开始他们的旅行了。
他们看见了许多，他们跑得很远，而且访问了许多人家；但结果都是快乐的。那幽灵在一张张病人的床边站一下，他们就都快活起来了；它一到他乡异地，人们就觉得家乡近在咫尺了；一靠近挣扎着的人，他们便怀有更大的希望而变得忍耐起来了；一站在贫穷的旁边，富有就跟着来了。在济贫院、医院和监狱里，在贫困所寄身的每一个地方，只要那些自命不凡的人，在他渺小而短促的掌权期间，并没有把门儿关紧，并把这幽灵闩在门外面，那末它总是留下它的祝福，并且把它的一些箴言教导给斯克掳奇。
如果这只是一个夜晚的话，那么这该是很长的一夜；但是斯克掳奇对这是有他的怀疑的，因为似乎圣诞节假期中的那些日子，都压缩到他们一起度过的这段时间里了。而且，奇怪的是，斯克掳奇在外形上固然丝毫没有改变，那幽灵却变得老起来了，清清楚楚地老起来了。斯克掳奇已经看出这种改变，但对此却一句也不提，直到他们离开了一个儿童们参加的第十二夜[31]联欢会之后，两人一起站在一个空旷的地方，斯克掳奇对这幽灵看看，他才看出它的头发都变白了。
“幽灵们的生命难道这样短促么？”斯克掳奇问。
“我在这地球上的生命是很短暂的，”幽灵回答说。“今天夜里就要完结了。”
“今天夜里！”斯克掳奇叫道。
“今天夜里，在半夜的时候。听！辰光快到了。”
这时节，钟声正在敲着十一点三刻。
斯克掳奇全神贯注地看着幽灵的那件袍子，说道：“如果我要问的话是不应该问的，那末请你原谅我。这是因为我看见有一件奇怪的东西，不是属于你身上的东西，从你袍子的下摆里伸出到外面来。这是一只脚还是一个脚爪？”
“这也许是一个脚爪吧，因为它上面还有皮肉在那里，”幽灵哀伤地回答说。“你瞧！”
它从袍子的褶裥里拎出两个可怜、卑贱、丑恶、可厌、悲惨的小孩来。他们跪在它的脚下，紧紧地抓住它衣服的外面。
“喏，伙计！你瞧这儿！瞧瞧这下面！”幽灵叫道。
他们是一个男孩和一个女孩。面黄肌瘦，衣衫褴褛，怒容满面，形如恶狼，可又是卑躬屈膝，俯首帖耳。优美的青春本来应当使他们的形体丰满，而且给他们以最鲜艳的面色的，如今却好像有一只陈腐和干瘪的手，像老年人的手似的，在拧他们、扭他们，并且把他们撕成碎片。本来是天使们在宝座上受人膜拜的地方，如今却潜伏着魔鬼们，他们正用威胁的眼光在瞪人。自从神奇的开天辟地创造万物以来，不知有过多少不可思议的事情，然而人类不论变化、堕落或反常到什么程度，都从来不曾有过任何怪物，有一半这样恐怖可怕。
斯克掳奇吓得直向后倒退。看见他们这样显露在他眼前，他嘴里想说他们都是蛮好的孩子，可是这句话宁愿卡住在他的喉咙里，也不愿做这样一个弥天大谎的参与者。
“幽灵！他们是你的儿女吗？”斯克掳奇再也没有别的话可说了。
“他们是人类的儿女，”这幽灵说，低下头看着他们。“可是他们缠住了我，从他们的父亲那儿前来申诉。这个男孩名叫‘愚昧’。这个女孩名叫‘贫困’。你要谨防他们俩，以及所有他们的同类，但顶要紧的是谨防这个男孩，因为他的额角上我看见写着‘毁灭’这个词儿，除非写下的字迹被擦掉了。拒绝承认这个！”幽灵叫道，把他的手伸出来指着城市的方向。“谁把它讲给你听，你就痛骂他！如果你为了党同伐异的目的而承认它，那就会使得事情更糟！你等着将来的后果吧！”
“他们难道没有避难的地方或者办法吗？”斯克掳奇叫道。
“难道没有监狱吗？”幽灵说，最后一次用斯克掳奇自己的话来回答他。“难道没有贫民习艺所吗？”
钟敲了十二下。
斯克掳奇向周围看看，要找那幽灵，可是它已经不见了。当最后一下钟声停止颤动时，他想起了老雅各·马利的预告，于是举目一望，就看见一个庄重严肃的幻象，披着衣服，戴着头巾，像一阵雾似的沿着地面，向他过来。

[1] 自燃：物质在并无直接加热的情况下，通过缓慢的氧化过程，温度逐渐升高，终于达到着火点，自发地引起燃烧。这里是说斯克掳奇唯恐这道光发自他自己的身上，以致自己燃烧起来。
[2] 这三者是英国人在圣诞节时做装饰品用的。
[3] 主显节在圣诞节后第十二天（即一月六日）。
[4] 五味酒原出印度，有酒、茶、柠檬汁、糖和水等五种成分，后泛指掺水加糖和香料的混合酒。
[5] 丰饶的羊角：据希腊神话，大神宙斯长大后，取一羊角赠克里特王之女，以报其抚育之恩，说有了这东西，能随心所欲，无不如意。因此这羊角被称为“丰饶之角”，是和平与繁荣的象征。
[6] 狄更斯的这篇小说写于1843年，圣诞节每年一次，所以他说有一千八百多个圣诞节的幽灵。
[7] 伦敦城内当时有无数烟囱，浓烟滚滚，雪和雾落下后，就变成又脏又黑了。
[8] 按照英国古老的风俗，男子可以吻凡是站在一串悬着的檞寄生下面的女子。
[9] 一种有盖的金属小罐，装茶叶、咖啡或香料。
[10] 指上面有心形图案的别针或搭扣等。
[11] 一种小乌鸦，看见发亮的东西喜欢飞来衔去。
[12] 十九世纪时，英国平民家中有炉灶的很少，通常都是架火烹饪，在去教堂或节日时，就把伙食送到面包房去烧煮。
[13] 犹太人把星期日作为一周的第一天，第七天即星期六，作为安息日。基督教新教的教友派则称星期六为第七天。
[14] “鲍勃”：英国俚语，意为一先令。克拉吉的名字叫罗伯特，简称鲍勃，所以说“和他大名相同”。
[15] 这是英国人烧烤家禽时常用的佐料。
[16] 以铜等金属制成的大锅或罐，供烧水或煮衣服用。“唱歌”是说蒸布丁的水在锅里烧滚了。
[17] 这里指的是耶稣。耶稣使瘸子走路、瞎子复明的故事分别见《圣经》中《约翰福音》第5章和《马可福音》第8章。
[18] 天鹅多为白色，黑天鹅则很少见，故被视为珍禽。这里是说克拉吉家因为贫穷，把普通的鹅看得比黑天鹅还珍贵。
[19] 指英国人每星期在家洗衣服的日子。布丁是用布包着煮的，而且又是放在煮衣服的锅里煮，所以有一股洗衣的味儿。
[20] 品脱为英国液量单位，等于0.568公升。
[21] 英国习俗，圣诞节吃布丁时，要在布丁周围浇上白兰地，并点火燃着。
[22] 即海燕。
[23] 这是英国十七、十八世纪时，妇女围在颈部及肩上的花边或麻纱。
[24] 这是一种含有醋酸和各种香精的香油，欧洲妇女用来防治晕眩和醒脑避秽。
[25] 这是一人唱完一节，由第二人赶紧接上唱的短歌，第一人唱到第二节时，第二人即唱第一节。可数人或是数组合唱。
[26] 教堂司事：教堂中担任管理教堂房屋、挖掘坟穴、打钟等任务的人员。
[27] 这句话的意思是说：马利的尸体就不会被挖掘出来，而“圣诞节之灵”也不会来找他了。
[28] 这里指的是罚物游戏中的一种，名叫“我爱我爱人有个A字”，由参加的人轮流说出自己所爱的人是怎样的，要求在这句话的末尾用一个以A或B、C等字母开头的词。说不出者受罚。
[29] 原文bear一词亦可指卑鄙粗野之人，故云。
[30] 指一种加糖和香料后烫热的葡萄酒或啤酒。
[31] 第十二夜指主显节前夕，一月五日的晚上。主显节为圣诞节假期的最后一天，所以“现在圣诞节之灵”的生命即将结束。

第四节歌
最后一个幽灵
那幻象缓慢、庄重而沉默地走近来。当它走近他身边的时候，斯克掳奇就双膝跪下了，因为这幽灵穿过空气而来，似乎一路在散布阴郁和神秘的气氛。
它全身都裹在一件深黑色的衣服里，把头、脸和身体都包住了，什么都看不见，露出的只有一只伸出来的手。要不是有这只伸在外面的手那就难以把它的形体跟黑夜分开，并且使它脱离那包围着它的黑暗了。
等它走到了他的身旁，他发觉它是高大而威严的，并且它那神秘的出现，使他充满了一种严肃的畏惧。除此之外，他便什么也不知道了，因为这幽灵既不讲话也不动弹。
“光临的是‘未来圣诞节之灵’吗？”斯克掳奇说。
幽灵并不回答，只把它的手向前指着。
“你是将要把那些还没有发生、但是在不久的将来就要当着我们的面发生的事情的影像指点给我看吧，”斯克掳奇接下去说。“是不是这样，幽灵？”
那衣服上部的皱褶收缩了一下，仿佛这幽灵把头低了一下。这便是斯克掳奇得到的唯一答复。
斯克掳奇虽则到这时跟鬼打交道已经习以为常了，可是对于这个沉默的形象却是害怕得不得了，他下边的两条腿发着抖，等到发现自己正准备跟它走时，人几乎站立不住了。那幽灵看见他这种情况，便停顿了片刻，给他时间来定一下神。
但是这样一来，斯克掳奇反而更糟糕了。他产生了一种不可名状的恐怖感，觉得在那阴森森的尸衣后面正有一对鬼眼全神贯注地盯着他，而他自己虽然把眼睛睁开到最大的限度，却是除了一只鬼手和一大堆漆黑的东西之外，什么都看不见。
“‘未来之灵’啊！”他叫道，“我见了你，比过去见过的随便什么鬼都更加害怕。但是因为现在我知道你来的目的是为了让我得到好处，同时因为我希望今后痛改前非，重新做人，我准备同你做伴，并怀着感激的心情这样做。你不愿跟我讲讲话么？”
它并不给他答复。那只手一直指向前面。
“引路吧！”斯克掳奇说。“引路吧！夜晚消逝得很快，时间对于我正是最宝贵的，我知道。引路吧，幽灵！”
这幻象像先前向他走过来时那样，现在向前行动了。斯克掳奇就跟随着它衣服的影子，他觉得这影子把他托起来，一路带往前去。
他们似乎并没有进城去，倒好像是这城市在他们四周涌现出来，主动地把他们包围在里面。总之，他们这时已到了城中心；到了交易所里，在商人们中间，那些商人都在匆忙地跑来跑去，把口袋里的钱弄得叮当作响，聚成一群群在谈着话，看看他们的表，或者若有所思地拨弄着他们的金质大图章[1]，以及诸如此类的事情，而这种情形正是斯克掳奇看惯了的。
这幽灵在一小撮生意人的旁边停了步。斯克掳奇看见它的手指点着他们，他便走上前去听他们在说些什么。
“不，”一个下颌硕大无比的大胖子说道，“这件事我也知道得不多。我只知道他已经死了。”
“他是什么时候死的？”另外一个问。
“昨天夜里吧，我相信。”
“哟，出了什么毛病啦？”第三个人问，从一只很大的鼻烟盒里拿出一大撮鼻烟。“我还以为他永远不会死的哩。”
“那只有天晓得，”头一个说，打了个哈欠。
“他把他的钱怎样安排来着？”一个红面孔的绅士问，他鼻尖上挂着一个瘤，摇动起来像是雄火鸡下颌边的垂肉。
“我还没听人说起过，”那个大下颌的人说，又打了一个呵欠。“把它留下给他的公司吧，也许。他并没有把它留下来给我。这就是我所知道的一切。”
这句逗人的话引起了大家的笑声。
“这次丧事大概会是便宜得很的，”同一个讲话的人说，“因为，我可以打赌，我不知道有谁会去送葬。我们大家来凑几个人，自告奋勇地去一下怎么样？”
“如果供给一顿午饭的话，我去一趟也无所谓，”鼻子上挂着瘤的那位先生说。“如果要我凑个数的话，那就得请我吃一顿。”
又是一阵笑声。
“话可得这么讲，在你们这些人里头，我是最没有利害关系的一个，”头一个讲话的人说，“因为我向来不戴黑手套，我也向来不吃午餐。但是如果别人愿意去的话，我也愿意去。说到这里我却想起来了：我恐怕不能说，我不是他唯一的朋友吧；因为我们每次碰见的时候，总要站住了攀谈一两句的。再见，再见！”
那些讲话的人和听的人都走开去，混到别的人堆里去了。斯克掳奇是认识这些人的，就对那幽灵看看，希望它作一个解释。
这幻象却溜到一条街上去。它的手指点着两个在碰头的人。斯克掳奇就又听着他们讲话，心想解释也许就在这里。
这两个人他也是十分熟悉的。他们都是生意人：很有钱，而且地位很重要。他一直有意去赢得他们的尊重，那就是说，从生意经出发，完全是从生意经出发。
“你好哇？”一个说。
“你好？”另一个应道。
“嗯，”头一个说，“‘老刮皮’[2]到底也寿终正寝了，是不是？”
“我听人这样说过，”第二个回答。“冷吧，是不是？”
“正合圣诞节的时令。我看你不是个爱溜冰的人吧？”
“不是。不是。我还有别的事情要考虑呢。早安！”
再没有别的话了。他们的会面、他们的交谈和他们的分手就是这样。
斯克掳奇先是感到有些惊奇，怎么这幽灵居然会对这样显然很琐碎的交谈加以重视；但是觉得这里头一定隐藏着什么用意，他便开始思量这用意可能是什么。这些话不可能与他的老合伙人雅各·马利之死有关，因为那已经是过去的事情，而这个鬼的活动范围却是未来。他也想不出有哪一个跟他自己有直接关系的人，可以用得上这些话。但是他绝不怀疑，不管这些话是关于谁的，他相信对于自己的改过自新都包含着某种教训，因此他决计把他所听见的每一句话，所看见的每一件事情，都牢牢记在心里；特别是等到自己的阴魂出现的时候，要看个清楚。因为他有一种期望，他未来的自己的行为会把他现在所没有找到的线索提供给他，这样他要解答这些哑谜就容易得多了。
他就在那个地方找他自己的形象，但是在那个他惯常待的角落里，现在站着的却是另外一个人了；尽管钟上所指的时间已经是他通常到那里的时间，可是他在那许多从门廊里涌进来的人群中，却看不见一个像他自己的人。然而，这种情形也不大使他惊异；因为他在心里已经反复思考过，要重新做人了，他正料想并希望能够看见他这新诞生的决心在这里成为事实。
那幻象站在他身旁，静默而且阴暗，伸出了一只手。当他从深思的探索中惊醒过来的时候，他从那只手的转动，以及它站在自己身旁的位置，似乎感觉到那双看不见的眼睛正在锐利地望着他。这情况使他发起抖来，而且觉得浑身发冷。
他们离开了那个熙熙攘攘的场所，来到这城市中一个偏僻的地段，那里是斯克掳奇以前从没到过的，不过他认识这个去处和它的坏名声。道路全是污秽而狭隘的，店铺和住宅都很破败；人们衣衫不全，嗜饮酗酒，邋里邋遢，面目可憎。一些小胡同和拱门，像不计其数的污水坑那样把恶臭、垃圾和生活中的种种气味，都倾吐到这些蔓延曲折的街道上；这整个地区散发着罪恶、污秽和穷困的臭味。
在这个藏垢纳污之所的巢穴深处，在一个屋檐斜伸出去的屋顶下面，有一家低矮的、门面凸出的铺子，那儿收购废铁、破布、瓶子、骨头和油腻的下脚。里面的地板上放着一堆堆的锈钥匙、钉子、链条、铰链、锉刀、磅秤、砝码以及各种各样的废铁。一座座像山一样的不成体统的破布、一团团发臭的油脂以及那些骨头叠成的坟墩头，不知孕育并藏匿着多少很少有人高兴去仔细探究的秘密。有一个头发花白的年纪近七十岁的坏角子，坐在他买卖的货色中间，靠近一个用旧砖头砌成的炭炉；他把许多杂七杂八的破布挂在一条绳子上，做成一个又臭又脏的门帘，来给自己挡住外面的冷空气，他在这安静的隐居地，其乐无穷地抽着板烟。
斯克掳奇同那幻象来到这人面前的时候，恰巧有个女人夹着一个沉重的包裹，偷偷地走进铺子。但是她人刚到，就有另外一个女人，同样地带着东西，也走了进来；而她后面紧跟着一个穿褪色黑衣服的男子，他看见她们时吃惊的程度，正和她们认出了她们彼此时一样。经过了一个短暂的目瞪口呆的时期（那吸板烟的老头子也和他们一样）之后，他们三人都禁不住大笑起来。
“让那打杂女工做头一个吧！”第一个进来的那女人叫嚷道。“让那洗衣婆做第二个吧；让那殡仪馆的伙计做第三个吧。你瞧这儿，老乔，这可真是碰得巧啊！咱们三个人，本来不打算在这儿碰头的，竟都来啦！”
“你们再也找不到比这儿更好的碰头地方了，”老乔说，把他的烟斗从嘴里拿出来。“到客厅里来吧。你在这儿早就是熟门熟路的了，你知道；至于另外那两个，也都不是陌生人。等一会儿，让我把铺子的门关上。哎哟，这门儿吱吱地叫得多响啊！这屋里没有比它自己的铰链锈得更厉害的铁器了，我相信；我还肯定这屋里的骨头没有比我这副骨头更老的了。哈哈！咱们都是顶配干咱们这一行的，咱们都是棋逢敌手。到客厅里来吧。到客厅里来吧。”
这所谓客厅，就是破布门帘后面的那块地方。老头子用一根旧的梯毯夹条[3]把炉里的火拨拨拢，用他的烟斗柄把冒烟的灯剔剔亮（因为这时候已经是夜里了），然后又把烟斗塞进嘴去。
在他忙着这些的时候，那个已经讲过话的女人把她那包东西丢在地板上，大模大样地在一张凳子上坐了下来，两臂交叉，胳膊肘搁在膝头上，用一种大胆的挑衅姿态，对另外那两个人瞧着。
“这又有什么关系呢？狄尔伯太太，这有什么关系呢？”那女人说。“每个人都有权利照料他自己。他向来就是这样的！”
“真的，这话挺对！”那洗衣妇说。“没有人比他更会照料自己的了。”
“那末，女人，别站在那儿呆瞪着，好像害怕似的！谁会知晓呢？我想咱们总不会彼此找岔子吧？”
“不，那才不会呢！”狄尔伯太太和那男子齐声说。“咱们希望不至于。”
“这就很好！”这女人叫道。“这样就够了。少了几件像这样的东西，谁会受损失呢？一个死人是不会的，我猜想？”
“当然不会，”狄尔伯太太说，大笑起来。
“如果他死了以后，还想保留这些东西，这个刻薄的老死刮皮，”那女人接下去说，“那末他在世的时候，为什么那样不近人情呢？如果他做人合情合理一些的话，那末在死神来打击他的时候，总会有人来照顾他，不会一个人孤零零地躺在床上，喘气直喘到断气。”
“这句话真是说得再确切也没有了，”狄尔伯太太说。“这就是老天对他的报应。”
“我但愿这报应能够更重一点，”这女人回答说。“你可以完全相信，如果我的手能够搞到任何别的什么的话，那末这种报应一定会更重一点的。把那个包裹打开来，老乔，让我知道它能值多少钱。爽爽快快地讲。我不怕做头一个，也不怕给他们看见这件事情。我相信，在我们在这儿碰头之前，我们大家就已经很明白各人是在自己动手了。这不是什么犯罪。把包裹打开来，乔。”
但是她的朋友们都很讲义气，不肯让她先打开包裹；于是那个穿着褪色黑衣服的男子一马当先，拿出了他的掠获物。东西并不丰富。一两个图章、一只铅笔盒、一副袖扣以及一支不值什么钱的别针，就这些而已。老乔把它们一件件的仔细检验过，估一估价钱，然后把他对每件东西打算付的数目，用粉笔写在墙壁上，等到他发现已经没有东西再拿出来时，就加成一个总数。
“这是你的账，”乔说，“我不能再多给六个便士，哪怕你要把我活活煮死也办不到。第二个是谁？”
狄尔伯太太是第二名。几条被单和毛巾、几件破旧的衣服、两把老式的银茶匙、一副方糖夹子以及几只靴子。她的账也同样地写在墙壁上。
“我向来对女士们出手太松。这是我的一个弱点，也是我毁掉自己的原因，”老乔说。“那是你的账。如果你再向我多要一个便士，而且公开提出来，那我就要懊悔自己太慷慨，非削减你半个克朗不可。”
“现在把我的包裹打开来吧，乔，”头一个女人说。
乔为了打开包裹更方便起见，就跪在地上；他解开了许许多多的绳结，才拉出一大卷挺重的深颜色的东西。
“你把这东西叫做什么啊？”乔问。“床上的帐子么？”
“啊！”女人回答说，哈哈大笑，叉着两臂，身子朝前倾。“帐子嘛！”
“难道说，他人还躺在床上，你就把这些东西，连同铜圈等等，一起都拿了下来？”乔问。
“不错，我正是这样，”女人回答说。“为什么不可以？”
“你真是生来要发财的，”乔说，“你将来一定会发财。”
“我向你保证，乔，对于像他这样的一个人，凡是我只要伸出手去就能够拿到的东西，我是决不会把手缩回来的，”女人冷冷地回答。“喏，你不要把油滴在那毯子上。”
“他的毯子吗？”乔问。
“你以为不是他的，倒是谁的？”女人回答说。“没有了这两条毯子，他总不至于伤风感冒吧，我敢说。”
“我希望他不是生了什么传染病死的吧？呃？”老乔停了一下他的工作，朝上面望望，这样说。
“你不用害怕这个，”那女人应道。“如果他有什么传染病的话，我决不会那么喜欢跟他做伴，为了这点东西在他身边多逗留的。啊！你尽管看那件衬衫，把你的眼睛都看痛了，你也不会在上面找到一个破洞，或是一摊磨烂的地方的。这是他衬衫中顶好的一件，也的确是件好衬衫。要不是有我在，人家早就把它糟蹋掉了。”
“你说糟蹋掉是什么意思？”老乔问。
“当然啦，这是说把它穿在他身上葬掉，”女人笑了一声，回答说。“有人就蠢得这么做了，可是我把它又脱了下来。如果白棉布[4]派这种用场不够好的话，那它还能派什么用场呢？盖在他的身上，还是一样很得体。他不会比穿上这一件显得更难看了。”
斯克掳奇惊心动魄地听着这一段话。当他们围着赃物，在老头子那盏灯的黯淡光线之下，坐在一起的时候，他用一种无以复加的厌恶和痛恨看着他们，即使他们是出卖死人尸体的下流恶魔，也不过如此了。
当老乔拿出一只装着钱的法兰绒袋子来，把给他们的那几笔钱数了出来摆在地上时，又是那个女人笑道，“哈哈！你们瞧，今儿这个就是他的下场！他活着的时候，把每个人都吓得从他身边跑开，他死掉之后，倒使我们得到了好处！哈哈哈！”
“幽灵呀，”斯克掳奇从头到脚发着抖说。“我明白了，我明白了。这个不幸的人的遭遇，可能就是我自己的遭遇。我的生活现在正向这个方向走去。慈悲的上帝呵，这是什么啊？”
他怀着恐惧直向后退，因为眼前的场景又变了，这时他的身子差不多碰到了一张床，一张光溜溜的、没有帐子的床，在这床上，一条破被单的下面，躺着一件被遮盖住的东西。这东西虽然不会开口，却用一种可怕的语言宣布它是什么了。
这个房间很黑暗，黑暗得无法看得真切；可是斯克掳奇因为私下里怀着一种冲动，就向房间里四处张望，急于想知道它究竟是怎样的一种房间。从外面的空中升起一道黯淡的光线，一直照到这张床上；而躺在这张床上的正是这个被人洗劫、被人遗弃、没人守灵、没人哭泣、没人照料的人的尸体。
斯克掳奇朝那幻象望望。它那坚定的手，正指着那人的头。那条遮体的布是那么随随便便地盖在上面，斯克掳奇只消动一动一个手指头，稍微把它掀起一点点，就可以使那张脸儿露出来。他想到这一层，觉得这件事真是容易做得很，因此巴不得这样做；只可惜他没有力量来把这蒙在脸上的布揭开，正如他没有力量使他身旁这幽灵走开一样。
如此无情、严酷而可畏的死神啊，您在这儿筑起了您的神坛，并且调动了那么多的恐怖手段来把它装潢起来，因为这儿本来是您的领域啊！但是对于那被人尊敬、受人爱戴并博得荣誉的人的头，您却是既无法碰他一根毫发来达到您那可怕的目的，也无法使他五官中的哪一处变得可憎。这并不是因为他那只手现在是沉重的，一放松就会垂落下去；也不是因为他的心脏和脉搏已经停止了；恰恰是因为那只手从前是光明正大、慷慨而忠实的；那颗心是勇敢、热烈和温柔的；那脉搏是一个大丈夫的。打击吧，阴灵，打击吧！您就会看见他的那些善行从创口里涌出来，把不朽的生命散播到全世界！
并没有人在斯克掳奇耳边讲这些话，然而当他望着床上时，他听到了这些话。他想，如果这个人现在能够起死回生的话，他最先想到的将会是什么呢？难填的欲壑，苛刻的交易，还是贪婪的操心呢？说实话，它们不是已经使他落到一个富有成果的下场了吗？
他躺在那黑暗的空房子里，没有一个男人，女人或小孩会说：他曾经在这件事或那件事上待我很好，为了纪念他的一句好心话，我要好好地对待他。一只猫正在门上抓着，炉边石头下面有老鼠在啃咬的声音。它们在这个死人的房间里究竟想要得到什么，它们为什么那么不安静而蠢蠢欲动，斯克掳奇简直想都不敢想。
“幽灵啊！”他说，“这是一个可怕的地方。在离开这个房间的时候，我决不会把它的教训丢开的，请相信我。我们走吧！”
然而这幽灵还是用一个毫不移动的手指，指着那死人的头。
“我懂得你的意思，”斯克掳奇回答说，“假如我做得到的话，我一定会这样做的。但是我没有这个能力，幽灵。我没有这个能力。”
幽灵似乎又在望着他。
“幽灵呵，我求求你，”斯克掳奇说，感到很痛苦，“如果这城里有哪一个人，因为这个人的死而心情激动，请你把那个人指给我看看！”
幻象把他的黑袍子在他面前张开了一会儿，好像一只翅膀似的；等到收拢的时候，显出了一个阳光照耀下的房间，里面有一位母亲和她的孩子们。
她正在等着什么人来，而且是带着焦急迫切的心情；因为她在房间里走来走去，听见每一个声音就要惊跳起来；一忽儿从窗口向外张望，一忽儿又看看钟；她想做一点针线活，可是总做不成；甚至她孩子在玩耍时的声音她都简直受不了。
最后，响起了那期待已久的敲门声。她急忙跑到门口，迎着了她的丈夫；他虽然还年轻，可是他的脸儿已经是饱经忧患，愁苦不堪的了。这时他脸上带有一种特殊的表情，一种自己觉得不好意思而竭力想抑制的认真的喜悦。
他坐下来吃饭，那是早已给他留在炉边热着的；而当她（经过了一段长时间的沉默之后）胆怯地问他有什么消息时，他似乎窘得不知道该怎样回答才好。
“是好消息呢，还是坏消息？”她问，帮助他讲出来。
“坏消息，”他回答说。
“那末我们全毁了么？”
“不。还有点希望，卡洛琳。”
“如果他肯发发善心的话，”她惊异地说，“那就有希望了！如果这样的奇迹已经出现了的话，那就随便什么都还是有希望的。”
“他已经没法发善心了，”她丈夫说，“他已经死啦。”
如果她脸上的表情并不骗人的话，她是一个温和而富有耐心的人；但是她听见了这句话，心里实在觉得欣慰，就紧握着双手，说出了这个意思。她接着就祷告上帝请求恕罪，而且觉得难过；但是她那头一个举动是表现她内心的情绪的。
“我想去见他要他答应宽限一星期，那个昨天夜里我对你提起过的酒喝得半醉的女人跟我说了，我起先还以为只是避不见我的一种借口，但结果却的确是如此。那时候，他不仅是病得很厉害，而且是就要死了。”
“我们欠的债将来转交给谁呢？”
“我不知道。不过，不消等到那时候，我们的钱就可以准备好了；而且，即使我们还没有准备好，却碰到了他的继承人偏偏也是一个这样狠心的债主，那也就只好说是命该如此了。今天我们总可以心情轻松地睡一夜啦，卡洛琳。”
的确。他们虽然竭力想使心肠软一些，但他们的心情到底是轻松些了。孩子们都默不作声，围绕在他们父母身边，听着那些他们很难听懂的话，他们现在也都变得更容光焕发了。这个人一死，这间屋子就变成快乐得多了！这个鬼所能显现给他看的由此人之死所引起的唯一情感，是一种快乐的情感。
“让我看到一点对一个人死亡的恻隐之情吧，”斯克掳奇说，“不然的话，幽灵啊，我们方才离开的那个黑暗的房间，就会永远显现在我眼前了。”
那幽灵带领他穿过几条他的脚步所熟悉的街道；他们一路走去时，斯克掳奇东张西望，想找到他自己，但是随便在哪儿都看不到自己。他们走进可怜的鲍勃·克拉吉的家里；这个住处是他以前去过的；他们看到那做母亲的和她的儿女们都围炉而坐。
沉静。非常沉静。那些爱吵闹的小克拉吉，都在一个角落里沉静得像是雕像似的；他们坐在那里望着彼得，彼得面前放着一本书。母亲和她的女儿们正在做着针线。但是他们的确都静默得很！
“‘他便叫一个小孩子来，使他站在他们当中。’[5]”
斯克掳奇是在什么地方听见过这句话的呢？他并不是在梦里听见的。当他和幽灵跨进门槛的时候，彼得一定是在高声读着这句话。他为什么不读下去呢？
母亲把她所做的活放在桌上，伸手掩住脸儿。
“这种颜色[6]伤我的眼睛，”她说。
这种颜色？唉，可怜的小丁姆呀！
“眼睛现在好点了，”克拉吉的妻子说。“在蜡烛光底下把眼睛都弄模糊了；等你们父亲回来了，我随便怎样也不能让他看见我这双模糊的眼睛。现在一定是快要到他回家的时候了。”
“其实是已经过了时候啦，”彼得合拢书说。“但是我想，母亲，在最近这几个晚上，他总是走得比平时稍微慢一点吧。”
他们又变得非常沉静了。临了，她用一种稳定而愉快的声音说，只有一次顿了一下：
“我知道他曾把——我知道他曾把小丁姆背在背上走的，还走得很快哩。”
“我也知道是这样，”彼得叫道。“常常这样。”
“我也知道是这样，”另外一个叫道。大家都知道。
“但他背起来是很轻的，”她接下去说，用心做着活，“他的父亲又是那样爱他，所以更觉得不费事，不费事了。现在你们父亲到了门口啦！”
她赶快出去迎接他；于是鲍勃披着他的围巾——他实在需要这东西，可怜的人儿——走进来了。他的茶已经给他准备好了，搁在炉旁的保温架上，他们都想比比看谁对他侍候得最好。接着那两个小克拉吉爬到他的膝头上，每个孩子都把自己的一片小脸颊儿贴在他的脸上，仿佛在说，“父亲，不要把这事情挂在心上。不要伤心！”
鲍勃跟他们玩得很快活，并且高高兴兴地和全家的人讲话。他看看桌子上面的活计，就称赞克拉吉太太和姑娘们做事辛勤迅速。不消到礼拜天，这些活早就能做好，他说。
   
“礼拜天！那你今天去过啦，罗伯特？”他妻子问道。
“是的，亲爱的，”鲍勃回答说。“我真希望你也能够去就好了。你如果能够看见那儿是个多么苍翠的地方[7]，对你一定有好处的。可是你今后会常常看见那地方的。我已经答应他，每逢到了礼拜天，我一定要上那儿去走走。我的小小孩儿啊！”鲍勃哭了起来。“我的小孩儿啊！”
他禁不住一下子痛哭起来。他实在忍不住了。他要是忍得住的话，他和他的孩子恐怕就会比过去离得更远了。
他离开了这个房间，跑上楼去，走进上面的那个房间，那里灯火照耀得很欢乐，挂着圣诞节的装饰。靠近那孩子的身旁，摆着一张椅子，还留着不久前曾有人在那儿坐过的痕迹。可怜的鲍勃就在这张椅子里坐下了，他想了一会儿，使自己镇静下来之后，吻吻那张小脸儿。他如今已接受了那已经发生的事实，便又相当高兴地走下楼来。
他们围炉坐着，谈着，姑娘们跟母亲都在干活。鲍勃讲给他们听，斯克掳奇先生的外甥真是特别厚道，他只不过跟他见过一次面，可是那天斯克掳奇的外甥在街上碰见他，看见他的神气有一点——“只不过有一点不开心，你知道，”鲍勃说——他便问发生了什么事情使他这样苦恼。“听见了这句话，”鲍勃说，“因为他是你所能碰到的讲话最亲切动听的人，我便告诉了他。他就说，‘克拉吉先生，我对此事感到十分难过；而且是替你的好太太十分难过。’顺便提一句，我真不懂，他怎么会知道这个的。”
“知道什么呀，亲爱的？”
“喏，知道你是一位好太太呗，”鲍勃说。
“哪个不知道呀！”彼得说。
“这话说得好，我的孩子！”鲍勃叫道。“我希望他们都知道。他说，‘我真替你的好太太十分难过。假如我有任何地方可以为您效劳的话，’他说，把他的名片递给我，‘这上面就是我的住址。请来找我吧。’啊，这件事情使人觉得很高兴，倒不是因为他可能对我们有什么帮助，而是因为他那种仁爱的态度。看起来真好像他老早就认识我们的小丁姆，而且很同情我们。”
“我深信他是一个好心肠的人！”克拉吉夫人说。
“亲爱的，”鲍勃回答说，“如果你看见过他，跟他讲过话，那你就会更相信他是这样的了。如果他能给彼得搞到一个更好的职位——你们注意我讲的话！——我一点不会觉得惊奇。”
“你听听这句话，彼得，”克拉吉夫人说。
“到了那时候，”姑娘们中间的一个叫道，“彼得就会跟什么人轧朋友[8]，并且自立门户了。”
“去你的！”彼得回答说，咧嘴笑着。
“这倒多半是可能的，”鲍勃说，“反正总有这么一天吧；好在往后的日子长得很，来得及，亲爱的。但是，不管我们大家将来怎样分手，在什么时候分手，我相信我们没有一个人会忘掉可怜的小丁姆的——我们总不会吧——也不会忘掉我们中间这头一次的分手吧？”
“决不会的，父亲！”他们大家都叫道。
“我们只要一回忆到他是多么有耐性、多么温和，虽然他还是一个小小的、小小的孩子，我就知道，”鲍勃说，“我就知道，我的亲人们，我们自己中间决不会轻易争吵起来，吵得忘掉了可怜的小丁姆的。”
“对，决不会的，父亲！”他们大家又都叫道。
“我高兴极了，”鲍勃说，“我高兴极了！”
克拉吉夫人吻他，他的女儿们吻他，那两个小克拉吉吻他，彼得和他握握手。小丁姆的英灵呵，你那童稚的善良本质就是来自上帝的！
“幽灵啊，”斯克掳奇说，“有什么东西在通知我，我们分手的时候就要到了。我知道这个，但是我不知道究竟要怎样分手。告诉我，我们看见的那个死去了躺在床上的人到底是什么人？”
那“未来圣诞节之灵”跟先前一样——然而斯克掳奇认为是在不同的时候；的确，在最后的那些幻景中，时间上的次序似乎是混乱的，只知道这些都是将来的事情——把他运送到一个生意人聚集的地方，但是始终没有把斯克掳奇自己显现给他看。实在是，这幽灵一点也没有停留，只顾一直往前去，仿佛正向刚才心目中想去的那个目的地奔去，直到斯克掳奇恳求它停留片刻才止。
“我们现在急急忙忙穿过的这个院子，”斯克掳奇说，“就是我办公的地方，而且干了很长一个时期。我看见那幢房子了。让我看看我在将来的日子里究竟是个什么样儿！”
那幽灵停下来，可是手却指着别处。
“屋子就在那边，”斯克掳奇叫道。“你为什么指着别处呢？”
那只无情的手指一点也不挪动。
斯克掳奇赶快跑到他办公室的窗子边，向里面望去。这儿还是一间办公室，但已经不是他的了。家具已经不是原来的了，坐在椅子里的人也不是他自己。那幻象还是跟先前一样地在指着。
他回到它的身边，一边纳闷自己为什么要这样和要到哪儿去，一边跟随着它，直至他们到达一座铁门边。他在进去之前，先停下来向四周看看。
一片教堂的坟场。这么说，这儿就是那个倒霉的人的葬身之地，这个人的姓名他眼看就要知道了。这是一个令人肃然起敬的地方。四周被房屋包围住；遍地的良草和杂草，而植物是正在不断枯死，却不是正在生长；埋葬了太多的人，塞得满满的；由于它的胃口得到满足，显出很发福的样子。好一个令人肃然起敬的地方！
幽灵站在那些坟墓中间，朝下指着其中的一座。斯克掳奇哆嗦着向那座坟走过去。那幻象还是完全跟先前一个样儿，可是他生怕从它那严肃的形体上看出新的含意来。
“在我更走近你指点着的那块石碑之前，”斯克掳奇说，“请你回答我一个问题。这些究竟是将要发生的事情的影像呢，还是只不过是或许会发生的事情的影像？”
那鬼依然手指向下，指着它身旁的那个坟。
“人们所走的道路会预示某种结局，这就是说，如果他们坚持走他们的道路，他们就一定会达到那种结局，”斯克掳奇说。“但是，假如他们离开了这种道路，那末结局也会改变的。你说，你显现给我看的那些事物就是这样的吧！”
那幽灵还是跟以前一样地丝毫不动。
斯克掳奇向这座坟走去，边走边发着抖；于是，随着那个指头，他在这荒坟的石碑上读到他自己的姓名：埃伯尼泽·斯克掳奇。
“难道我就是躺在床上的那个人么？”他叫道，双膝跪下。
那只手指从坟指向他，再从他指向坟。
“不，幽灵！啊，不，不！”
那只手指仍然伸出着。
“好幽灵啊！”他叫道，紧紧地抓住它的袍子。“听我讲！我现在已经不是从前那样的人了。要不是因为这次经历，我不会变成我应该变成的人。假如我已经是毫无希望的话，那又为什么把这个显现给我看呢？”
那只手似乎头一次在颤动起来。
“好幽灵啊，”他接下去说，一边跪倒在它面前的地上，“你的天性在代我说情，并且可怜我。请你使我相信：如果我今后重新做人，我还能把你显现给我看的那些影像改变过来！”
那只仁慈的手抖动起来。
“我以后一定从心底里尊重圣诞节，并且要一年到头努力过着节。我以后要生活在‘过去’、‘现在’和‘将来’之中。这三位幽灵以后永远都要在我心里激励着我。我决不把它们启导我的教训置之脑后。啊，告诉我，我还有可能擦掉这块石头上的字迹！”
他在痛苦中抓住了那幽灵的手。它想把手挣脱出来，但是他苦苦祈求着，用力抓住这只手不放。然而那幽灵比他更强有力，终于摆脱了他。
他举起手来作一次最后的祷告，祈求他的命运转变过来，这时候他看见幽灵的帽兜和衣服都发生了变化。它缩拢来，塌下去，逐渐收缩成一根床柱子。

[1] 当时英国富商或贵族常用的一种图章，有金质或石质，上刻姓名缩写或纹章中的装饰图案。多嵌在戒指或挂在表链上，在信件或其他文件上封蜡时应用。
[2] 这是他们给斯克掳奇取的绰号。“老刮皮”（Old Scratch）的读音与“老斯克掳奇”（Old Scrooge）相近，也是“魔鬼”的绰号。
[3] 一种细铜棒，用来夹住每级楼梯上铺的地毯。
[4] 这里指的是斯克掳奇床上铺的白布被单。这是说她把斯克掳奇的尸身剥光了，只用一条白被单盖着。
[5] 引自《圣经·马太福音》第18章第2节。当耶稣的门徒问他：“天国里谁是最大的？”他就叫孩子来，说凡是谦卑得像这孩子的，在天国里就是最大的。
[6] 指她正在做的丧服的黑色。
[7] 这里是说小丁姆已经死了，鲍勃曾经去看过丁姆将被安葬的地方。
[8] “轧朋友”：英国贫民阶级的习惯用语，意思是同一个姑娘订婚。

第五节歌
结局
对啊！这床柱是他自己的。床是他自己的，房间是他自己的。而一切之中最最好和最最幸福的是：他将来的时间是属于他自己的，使他可以改过自新！
“我以后要生活在‘过去’、‘现在’和‘将来’之中！”斯克掳奇从床上爬下来，又这样说了一句。“这三位幽灵以后都要在我心里激励着我。雅各·马利啊！为此，赞美上天和圣诞节吧！我现在跪着说这话，老马利啊，我正跪着！”
他心里充满了善良的心愿，变得那么激动和热诚，使他那哽咽的声音几乎难以表达他的呼唤。他刚才同幽灵争执的时候，曾经痛哭过，因此脸上还沾着泪痕。
斯克掳奇把帐子的一边折拢来抱在自己怀里，叫道，“它并没有被人扯下来，它并没有被人扯下来，连铜圈等等。它们现在都在这儿——我现在也在这儿——那些本来要实现的事情的影像，还有被驱散的可能。它们一定的。我知道一定会的！”
在这段时间里，他的一双手一直忙着摆弄自己的衣服：把衣夹里翻到外面，把它们颠倒了穿上身，或者把它们扯来扯去，把它们放错了位置，以及对它们加以各种各样的蹂躏。
“我不知道该怎样做才好！”斯克掳奇叫道，又是笑又是哭，而且把他的长筒袜子缠在自己身上，弄得活像拉奥孔[1]似的。“我现在是轻松得像一根羽毛，快活得像一个天使，高兴得像一个小学生，头晕得像一个醉汉。祝大家圣诞快乐！祝全世界的人新年愉快！喂喂！呵呵！喂！”
他已经跳跳蹦蹦进入了起居室，这时正站在那儿，简直喘不过气来。
“那儿是盛着粥的锅子！”斯克掳奇叫道，又走动起来，在壁炉前跳来蹦去。“那儿是雅各·马利的鬼魂进来时所走的门！那儿是‘现在圣诞节之灵’坐过的角落！那儿是我看见那些游魂的窗子！一切都是不错的，一切都是真实的，一切都是发生过的。哈哈哈！”
真的，对于一个许多年来在这方面荒疏已久的人，这真是一阵奇妙无比的大笑，一阵精彩万分的大笑。这是长长一连串的出色笑声之父！
“我不知道今天是这个月的几号，”斯克掳奇说。“我不知道我在幽灵们中间度过了多久时光。我什么事情都不知道。我完全是个小娃娃。这没关系。我不管这些。我宁愿做个小娃娃！喂！呵呵！喂喂！”
他正手舞足蹈地欣喜若狂，被礼拜堂的钟声止住了：那样欢乐的钟声是他生平从来没有听见过的。镗，锒，钟锤敲着；叮，当，大钟响着。钟声，当，叮；钟锤，锒，镗！哦，真堂皇啊，真堂皇啊！
他跑到窗户边，打开了窗，把头伸出去。没有浓雾，没有烟霭；晴朗、明亮、欢欣、活跃、寒冷；寒冷，号召血液去跟着跳舞；金黄色的阳光；美妙无比的天空；新鲜清香的空气；欢乐的钟声。哦，真堂皇啊，真堂皇啊！
“今天是什么日子啊？”斯克掳奇叫道，他向楼下叫唤着一个穿着礼拜天衣服[2]的孩子，这孩子大概是溜进来看看情况的。
“什么？”那孩子问，惊奇得不得了。
“今天是什么日子，我的好人儿？”斯克掳奇说。
“今天！”孩子回答说。“喏，圣诞节呗！”
“果然是圣诞节！”斯克掳奇自言自语道。“我还没有错过这个节日。幽灵们把所有的事情在一夜里都做完了。他们能做他们喜欢做的任何事情。他们当然能够的。他们当然能够的。喂，我的好人儿！”
“喂！”那孩子回答说。
“你认得过去第二条街上的那家鸡鸭铺吗，在转角上的？”斯克掳奇问。
“我想我应该是认得的吧，”这小子回答说。
“真是个聪明的孩子！”斯克掳奇说。“真是个了不起的孩子！你知不知道他们有没有卖掉那只挂在那儿的特号火鸡，不是那只小的特号火鸡，是那只大的？”
“什么，那只像我这样大的吗？”孩子回答说。
“真是个讨人喜欢的孩子！”斯克掳奇说，“跟他讲话真有趣。是的，我的花花公子！”
“它现在还挂在那儿哩，”孩子说。
“是吗？”斯克掳奇说，“去把它买来。”
“滑克—尔[3]！”孩子惊叫道。
“不，不，”斯克掳奇说，“我这话是当真的。你去把它买下了，叫他们送到这儿来，让我好吩咐他们把这东西送到哪儿去。你跟铺子里的人一起回来，我给你一个先令。如果不到五分钟就跟他一起回来，我给你半个克朗！”
那孩子像一发子弹似的飞奔而去了。如果有人放枪能放得一半这么快，那他已经可以算是一位射击能手了。
“我要把它送到鲍勃·克拉吉家去，”斯克掳奇小声说，搓搓双手，笑得捧着肚子。“不让他知道是谁送给他的。这只火鸡有两个小丁姆那么大。把它送给鲍勃真是开一个大玩笑，连乔·密勒[4]也要自愧不如呢。”
他写地址时，手都有点抖了；但是不管怎样，他到底把它写出来了，而且走到楼下去把临街的大门打开，等候那鸡鸭铺的人来。当他站在那儿等着的时候，他的眼睛忽然看到了那个门环。
“我活一天就要爱它一天，”斯克掳奇说，用手拍拍它。“我以前简直从来不看它一眼。它那脸儿上的表情是多么诚实啊！这真是个奇妙的门环！——火鸡来啦。喂！呵呵！你好哇！圣诞快乐！”
这才真是一只火鸡哪！它绝对不可能靠着自己的腿站立起来，这只火鸡。它会在一分钟里就把它的腿都折断，像两根封口的火漆棒似的。
“嗐，要把它拎到堪姆登镇去是办不到的，”斯克掳奇说。“你得雇一辆马车去才行。”
他说这句话时的格格笑声，和他付火鸡钱时的格格笑声，付马车费时的格格笑声，以及他酬谢那小孩时的格格笑声，都及不上他气喘咻咻地重新在他椅子里坐下时的那一阵格格笑声，而且直笑得淌出眼泪来。
修面不是一件容易的事情，这是因为他的手还继续抖得很厉害；而且修面是需要全神贯注的，即使你在做这件事时并不欢欣雀跃。但是如果他把鼻子尖剃掉了的话，他会贴一块橡皮胶布在上面，而仍旧感到心满意足的。
他穿上了一身“最好的衣服”，终于走到了街上。这时候人们都在涌出来了，这情景正同他跟着“现在圣诞节之灵”时看见的一样。于是，斯克掳奇反背着双手，面带快活的笑容，看看每一个人。总之，他的神气看起来是那么乐不可支，因此有三四个心情愉快的人对他说道，“早安，先生！祝你圣诞快乐！”后来斯克掳奇常常说，在他生平所听到的愉快的声音中，这几个字听在耳朵里要算是最愉快的了。
他还没有走多远，就看见那位胖胖的绅士迎面走来——就是昨天走进他的账房间，对他说“斯克掳奇与马利商行，是不是？”的那个人。他一想到这位老先生遇到他时会怎样看待他，心里就贯穿着一阵痛楚之感；但是他知道摆在他面前的康庄大道是哪一条，他就选择了这条路。
“亲爱的先生，”斯克掳奇说，一面加快步伐，抓住了这位老先生的一双手，“您好吗？我希望您昨天获得成功。您真是仁慈得很。祝您圣诞快乐，先生！”
“斯克掳奇先生么？”
“正是，”斯克掳奇说。“这就是在下的姓氏，我怕这名字您听起来不大愉快吧。请准许我恳求您的宽恕。而且还要请求您——”说到这儿，斯克掳奇便凑在他的耳边轻轻地讲了几句话。
“上帝保佑我！”这位绅士说，简直气都喘不过来了。“我亲爱的斯克掳奇先生，您这话当真吗？”
“别见笑，”斯克掳奇说，“一个铜子儿都不会少。老实说，这里头还包括了许多过期未付的在内。您肯帮我这个忙吗？”
“我亲爱的先生，”对方说，跟他握握手。“我简直不知道该怎么说才好，对于您这种慷——”
“请您甭提啦，”斯克掳奇回答说。“请光临敝舍。您肯光临敝舍吗？”
“我一定来！”那位老先生叫道。很明显，他是决心要去的。
“谢谢您啦，”斯克掳奇说。“我真感激您。我对您无限感谢。祝福您！”
他上礼拜堂去，然后在街上逛来逛去，看着人们匆匆来往奔波，拍拍孩子们的头，对乞丐们问问话，低下头去看看人家屋子里的厨房，抬起头来望望人家的窗户，觉得随便哪一件事情都使他得到乐趣。他从来做梦也没有想到任何散步——任何事情——能给他这么多的幸福。到了下午，他调转脚步，向他外甥的家走去。
他在门外走来走去，走了十几遍，才鼓起勇气来上前去敲门。最后他一个冲刺，终于敲起门来。
“你的主人在家吗，亲爱的？”斯克掳奇对那姑娘说。一位好姑娘！好得很。
“在家，先生。”
“他在哪儿啊，我的好人儿？”斯克掳奇问。
“先生，他在餐厅里，跟太太在一起。我领您上楼去，好不好？”
“谢谢你。他认得我的，”斯克掳奇说，他的手已经放在餐厅的门把手上了。“我这就进去啦，亲爱的。”
他轻轻地旋着把手，把他的脸儿从门边侧着伸进去。他们正在对桌子上望着（桌上这时已经摆满饭菜了）；因为这些年轻的主妇们在这种问题上老是很紧张，喜欢看见一切都安排得好好的。
“弗雷德！”斯克掳奇说。
天啊，他的外甥媳妇真是吓了一大跳！斯克掳奇这时忘掉了她是坐在角落里，脚搁在一只脚凳上，否则他随便怎样也不会这样叫的。
“啊呀，上帝保佑我！”弗雷德叫道，“这是哪一位呀？”
“是我。你的舅舅斯克掳奇。我是来吃饭的。你肯让我进来吗，弗雷德？”
让他进来，那还用说！他握手时没有把他的胳膊摇断已经算是走运了。五分钟之后，他就感到舒适自在了。没有比这更热诚的接待了。他的外甥媳妇看起来完全是同样的热诚。陶泊尔，他走过来的时候也是这样热诚。那位胖妹妹走过来的时候，她也是这样热诚。每个人走过来的时候，他们也都是这样热诚。好得不得了的宴会，好得不得了的游戏，好得不得了的亲密融洽，好—得—不—得—了的幸福快乐！
但是第二天早晨，他老早就到办公室了。哦，他是特地早去的！他只要能够先到那里，撞见鲍勃·克拉吉迟到就好了！这便是他一心想做到的事情。
果然给他做到了；是的，他做到了！钟敲了九点。鲍勃没来。九点一刻了。鲍勃没来。他足足迟到了十八分半钟。斯克掳奇坐在那儿，把他的房门开得大大的，以便能看见鲍勃走进那个“水槽”。
鲍勃在推开门之前，已经先把帽子脱掉，围巾也除下来了。他一眨眼就坐到了他的小凳上，拿起笔来飞快地写着，仿佛他想追上九点钟似的。
“喂！”斯克掳奇尽可能地装出他惯常的声音，咆哮道。“你今天到这个时候才来，究竟是什么意思？”
“我真抱歉得很，先生，”鲍勃说。“我是迟到了。”
“你是迟到了？”斯克掳奇重复说一遍。“是啊。我想你是迟到了。对不起，先生，请你到这儿来一下。”
“这不过是一年一度啊，先生，”鲍勃从“水槽”里钻出来，恳求道。“下次决不会再这样了。昨儿晚上，我玩得太快活了，先生。”
“喏，我来讲给你听，我的朋友，”斯克掳奇说，“我再也容忍不了这种事情啦。所以嘛，”他接下去说，从凳子上跳下来，对着鲍勃身上的背心，那么使劲地一戳，戳得他跌跌撞撞地一直退回到“水槽”里。——“所以嘛，我就要给你加薪水啦！”
鲍勃发起抖来，朝放着尺的地方走近了一点儿。有那么一刹那时间，他想用这根尺把斯克掳奇击倒，挟住了他的身子，叫院子里的人大家来帮忙，给他穿上一件紧身衣[5]！
“祝你圣诞快乐，鲍勃！”斯克掳奇说，轻轻地拍拍他的背脊，他那一副诚恳的样子，谁看了都不会误解的。“祝你过一个更加快乐的圣诞节，鲍勃，我的好人儿，比我许多年来给过你的圣诞节都要快乐得多！我要加你的薪水，并且要尽力帮助你那艰苦奋斗的家庭，让咱们就在今天下午，边喝着一碗圣诞节的热气腾腾的‘必歇浦’[6]，边谈你的事儿，鲍勃！快把炉里的火加加旺，赶快先去买一桶煤来再动笔写吧，鲍勃·克拉吉！”
 
斯克掳奇不但实现了自己的诺言，而且超过了诺言。他做了所有这些事情，而且还做了不知多少别的事情；至于小丁姆呢，他并没有死，斯克掳奇还做了他的干爹。他成为这个又好又老的城市所知道的，或者这个又好又老的世界上任何一个别的又老又好的都市、城镇和自治市镇所知道的再好也没有的朋友，再好也没有的东家和再好也没有的人。有些人看见他这种转变，觉得好笑，但是他让他们笑，一点不去理会他们；因为他已相当聪明，知道在这个地球上的任何一件事情，在开头的时候总是有人大笑而特笑的；而且知道，这种人无论如何都是盲目的，因此他觉得，与其让他们犯别种样子不大雅观的毛病，倒不如让他们笑得眯起了眼睛的好。他自己打心底里在笑，而这对他来说，已经是很足够的了。
   
从此以后，他跟精灵们[7]不再有往来，而是根据“滴酒不沾”的原则生活。后来人们常常谈到他，说如果现在世上有什么人懂得怎样过好圣诞节的话，那就要算是他了。但愿人们说我们也正是这样，我们大家都是这样！因此，正如小丁姆说的：上帝保佑我们，每一个人！

[1] 拉奥孔为希腊神话中特洛伊城的一个祭司，因在特洛伊之战中，劝市民不要把敌人留下的木马拉进城而招女神雅典娜之怒，使他们父子三人被海中的两条大蛇缠绕而死。
[2] 礼拜天衣服为英国老百姓在星期日才穿的最好的衣服，不同于平时劳动所穿的服装。
[3] 据传说，约翰·滑克尔是伦敦的一个小职员，生着鹰爪鼻，专门喜欢把同事们的过失向上级报告，大家恨透了他，就竭力证明他所报不实。因此俗话说“鹰爪鼻滑克尔”，等于说“这是一个捏造的故事”。此处即“别胡扯”、“骗人”之意。
[4] 乔·密勒为英国民间传说中的笑话作者，有一本《乔·密勒笑话集》的古老的书，内容主要是十六、十七世纪时的笑话，据说收集的就是他讲过的笑话。乔·密勒实有其人（1684—1738），是当时的一位喜剧演员。而最大的笑话是，据说他虽然以演喜剧为职业，但他生平却从未讲过一个笑话。
[5] 紧身衣：一种厚帆布制成的长袖衣服，给发疯的人穿上，束缚住手足，使他无法动弹。这里是说鲍勃以为斯克掳奇发疯了。
[6] 必歇浦为一种用葡萄酒、橘子或柠檬、香料和砂糖混合制成的饮料，加热后饮用。
[7] “精灵们”的原文“spirits”另有一种含义：烈酒，酒精。狄更斯在这里用了双关语，是说斯克掳奇改过自新，不仅戒酒，而且从此以后不再同鬼打交道了。

Stave Oxe
MARLEY’S GHOST
MARLEY was dead，to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman，the clerk，the undertaker，and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change，for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind！I don’t mean to say that I know，of my own knowledge，what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined，myself，to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile；and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it，or the country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat emphatically，that Marley was as dead as a doornail.
Scrooge knew he was dead ？ Of course he did. How could it be otherwise ？ Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor，his sole administrator，his sole assign，his sole residuary legatee，his sole friend，and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event，but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral，and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
The mention of Marley’s funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead.
This must be distinctly understood，or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s father died before the play began，there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night，in an easterly wind，upon his own ramparts，than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot—say St. Pauls Churchyard for instance—literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.
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 both names. It was all the same to him.
Oh！But he was a tight-fisted hand at 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 fire；secret，and selfcontained，and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features，nipped his pointed nose，shrivelled his cheek，stiffened his gait；made his eyes red，his thin lips blue；and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on，his head，and on his eyebrows，and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him；he iced his office in the dog-days；and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm，no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he，no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose，no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain，and snow，and hail，and sleet，could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “ came down ” handsomely，and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say，with gladsome looks，“ My dear Scrooge，how are you ？ When will you come to see me ？ ” No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle，no children asked him what it was o’clock，no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a，place，of Scrooge. Even the blind men’s dogs appeared to know him；and when they saw him coming on，would tug their owners into doorways and up courts；and then would wag their tails as though they said，“No eye at all is better than an evil eye，dark master！”
But what did Scrooge care！It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life，warning all human sympathy to keep its distance，was what the knowing ones call “ nuts ” to Scrooge.
   
Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year，on Christmas Eve—old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold，bleak，biting weather：foggy withal：and he could hear the people in the court outside go wheezing up and down，beating their hands upon their breasts，and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three，but it was quite dark already—it had not been light all day—and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices，like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole，and was so dense without，that although the court was of the narrowest，the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down，obscuring everything，one might have thought that Nature lived hard by，and was brewing on a large scale.
The door of Scrooge’s counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk，who，in a dismal little cell beyond，a sort of tank，was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire，but the clerk’s fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn’t replenish it，for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room；and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel，the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter，and tried to warm himself at the candle；in which effort，not being a man of strong imagination，he failed.
“ A Merry Christinas，uncle！God save you！” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge’s nephew，who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
“ Bah！” said Scrooge. “ Humbug！”
He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost，this nephew of Scrooge’s，that he was all in a glow；his face was ruddy and handsome；his eyes sparkled，and his breath smoked again.
“ Christmas a humbug，uncle！” said Scrooge’s nephew. “ You don’t mean that，I am sure ？ ”
“ I do，” said Scrooge. “ Merry Christmas！What right have you to be merry ？ What reason have you to be merry ？ You’re poor enough.”
“ Come，then，” returned the nephew gaily. “ What right have you to be dismal ？ What reason have you to be morose ？ You’re rich enough.”
Scrooge，having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment，said，“ Bah！” again；and followed it up with “ Humbug”
“ Don’t be cross，uncle！” said the nephew.
“ What else can I be，” returned the uncle，“ when I live in such a world of fools as this ？ Merry Christmas！Out upon merry Christmas！What’s Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money；a time for finding yourself a year older，and not an hour richer；a time for balancing your books and having every item in ’em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you ？ If I could work my will，” said Scrooge indignantly，“ every idiot who goes about with ‘ Merry Christmas ’ on his lips，should be boiled with his own pudding，and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should！”
“ Uncle！” pleaded the nephew.
“Nephew！” returned the uncle sternly，‘‘keep Christmas in your own way，and let me keep it in mine.”
“ Keep it！” repeated Scrooge’s nephew. “But you don’t keep it.”
“Let me leave it alone，then，” said Scrooge. “ Much good may it do you！Much good it has ever done you！”
“ There are many things from which I might have derived good，by which I have not profited，I dare say，” returned the nephew—“Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time，when it has come round—apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin，if anything belonging to it can be apart from that—as a good time；a kind，forgiving，charitable，pleasant time；the only time I know of，in the long calendar of the year，when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely，and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave，and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore，uncle，though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket，I believe that it <i>has</i> done me good，and <i>will</i> do me good；and I say，God bless it！”
The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety，he poked the fire，and extinguished the last frail spark for ever.
“ Let me hear another sound from <i>you</i>，” said Scrooge，“ and you’ll keep your Christmas bylosing your situation！You’re quite a powerful speaker，sir，” he added，turning to his nephew. “ I wonder you don’t go into Parliament.，’
“ Don’t be angry，uncle. Come！Dine with us to-morrow.”
Scrooge said that he would see him—Yes，indeed he did. He went the whole length of that expression，and said that he would see him in that extremity first.
“ But why ？ ” cried Scrooge’s nephew. “ Why ？ ”
“ Why did you get married ？” said Scrooge.
    八  零 电   子 书  w w w . t x t  8 0. c c
“ Because 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 it as a reason for not coming now ？ ”
“ Good-afternoon，” said Scrooge.
“ I want nothing from you；I 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 any quarrel，to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas，and I’ll keep my Christmas humour to the last. So a Merry Christmas，uncle！”
“ Good-afternoon！” said Scrooge.
“ And a happy New Year！”
“ Good-afternoon！” said Scrooge.
His nephew left the 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 Scrooges office. They had books and papers in their hands，and bowed to him.
“ 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 repre sented by his surviving partner，” said the gentleman，presenting his credentials.
It certainly was；for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous words “ liberality，” Scrooge frowned，and shook his head，and handed the credentials back.
“ At this festive season of the 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 pen again.
“ And the union workhouses ？ ” demanded Scrooge. “ Are they still in operation ？ ”
“ They are. Still，” returned the gentleman，“ I wish I could say that they were not.”
“The treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour，then ？ ” said Scrooge.
“ Both very busy，sir.”
“ Oh！I was 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 endeavouring 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 others，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，gentlemen，that is my answer. I don’t make 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 surplus 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 pursue their point，the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labours with an improved opinion of himself，and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.
Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so，that people ran about with flaring links，proffering their services to go before horses in carriages and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church，whose gruff old bell was always peeping slyly down at Scrooge out of a gothic window in the wall，became invisible，and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds，with tremulous vibrations afterwards，as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the main street，at the corner of the court，some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes，and had lighted a great fire in a brazier，round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude，its overflowings sullenly congealed，and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows，made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers’ and grocers’ trades became a splendid joke—a glorious pageant，with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. The Lord Mayor，in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion House，gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord Mayor’s household should；and even the little tailor，whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets，stirred up to-morrow’s pudding in his garret while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.
Foggier yet，and colder！Piercing，searching，biting cold. If the good St. Dunstan had but nipped the evil spirit’s nose with a touch of such weather as that，instead of using his familiar weapons，then indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant young nose，gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs，stooped down at Scrooge’s keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol；but at the first sound of—
 
“God bless you，merry gentleman！
May nothing you dismay！”
 
Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action，that the singer fled in terror，leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost.
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 his hat.
“You’ll want all day to-morrow，I suppose？” said Scrooge.
“ If quite convenient，sir.”
“ It’s not convenient，” said Scrooge，“ and it’s not fair. If I was to stop half-a-crown for it，you’d think yourself ill-used，I’ll be bound ？ ”
The clerk smiled faintly.
“ And yet，”said Scrooge，“ you don’t think <i>me</i> ill-used，when I pay a day’s wages for no work.”
The clerk observed that it was only once a year.
“ A poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket every twenty-fifth of December！” said Scrooge，buttoning his greatcoat to the chin. “ But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.”
The clerk promised that he would；and Scrooge walked out with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling，and the clerk，with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist （for he boasted no greatcoat），went down a slide on Cornhill，at the end of a lane of boys，twenty times，in honour of its being Christmas Eve，and then ran home to Camden Town as hard as he could pelt，to play at blind-man’s buff.
Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern；and having read all the news papers，and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker’s book，went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms，in a lowering pile of building up a yard，where it had so little 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. It was old enough now，and dreary enough，for nobody lived in it but Scrooge，the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge，who knew its every stone，was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house，that it seemed as if the genius of the weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold.
Now，it is a fact that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door，except that it was very large. It is also a fact that Scrooge had seen it，night and morning，during his whole residence in that place；also that Scrooge had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of London，even including—which is a bold word—the corporation，aldermen，and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought on Marley，since his last mention of his seven-years dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me，if he can，how it happened that Scrooge，having his key in the lock of the door，saw in the knocker，without its undergoing any intermediate process of change—not a knocker，but Marley’s face.
Marley&#39;s face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard 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 his ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred，as if by breath or hot air；and，though the eyes were wide open，they were perfectly motionless. That，and its livid colour，made it horrible；but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control，rather than a part of its own expression.
As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon，it was a knocker again.
To say that he 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 <i>did</i> pause，with a moment s irresolution，before he shut the door；and he <i>did</i> 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！” and closed it with a bang.
The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above，and every cask in the wine-merchant’s cellars below，appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own. 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 candle as he went.
You may talk vaguely about driving a coach&#39; and-six up a good old flight of stairs，or through a bad young Act of Parliament；but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that staircase，and taken it broadwise，with the splinter-bar towards the wall and the door towards the balustrades；and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that，and room to spare；which is perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen gas-lamps out of the street wouldn’t have lighted the entry too well，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 his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that.
Sitting-room，bedroom，lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under the table，nobody under the sofa；a small fire in the grate；spoon and basin ready；and the little saucepan of gruel （Scrooge had a cold in his head） upon the hob. Nobody under the bed；nobody in the closet；nobody in his dressing-gown，which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire-guard，old shoes，two fish-baskets，washing-stand on three legs，and a poker.
Quite satisfied，he closed his door，and locked himself in—double-locked himself in，which was not his custom. Thus secured against surprise，he took off his cravat；put on his dressing-gown and slippers，and his night-cap；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 round with quaint Dutch tiles，designed to illustrate the Scriptures. There were Cains and Abels，Pharaoh’s daughters，Queens of Sheba，angelic messengers descending through the air on clouds like feather-beds，Abrahams，Belshazzars，Apostles putting off to sea in butter-boats，hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts；and yet that face of Marlcy，seven years dead，came like the ancient prophet&#39;s rod，and swallowed up the whole. If cach smooth tile had been a blank at first，with power to shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragment 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. As he threw his head back in the chair，his glance happened to rest upon a bell，a disused bell，that hung in the room，and communicated，for some purpose now forgotten，with a chamber in the highest storey of the building. It was with great astonishment，and with a strange，inexplicable dread，that as he looked he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound；but soon it rang out loudly，and so did every bell in the house.
This might have lasted half a minute，or a minute，but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun，together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise，deep down below；as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant’s cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.
The cellar door flew open with a booming sound，and then he heard the noise much louder，on the floors below；then coming up the stairs；then coming straight towards his door.
“ It’s humbug still！” said Scrooge. “ I won’t believe it.”
His colour changed，though，when，without 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.
The same face：the very same. Marley in his pigtail，usual waistcoat，tights，and boots；the tassels on the latter bristling，like his pigtail，and his coat-skirts，and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long，and wound about him like a tail；and it was made （for Scrooge observed it closely） of cash-boxes，keys，padlocks，ledgers，deeds，and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent；so that Scrooge，observing him，and looking through bis waistcoat，could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels，but he had never believed it until now.
No，nor did he believe it even now. 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 of the folded kerchief bound about his head and chin，which wrapper he had not observed before；he was still incredulous，and fought against his senses.
“ How now！” said Scrooge，caustic and cold as ever. “ What do you want with me ？ ”
“ Much！”—Marley’s voice，no doubt about it.
“ Who are you ？ ”
“ Ask me who I <i>was</i>.”
“ Who <i>were</i> you then ？ ” said Scrooge，raising his voice. “You’re particular，for a shade.” He was going to say “ <i>to</i> a shade，” but substituted this，as more appropriate.
“ In life I was your partner，Jacob Marley.”
“ Can you—can you sit down ？ ” 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 may be 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 his 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 spectre’s voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
To sit，staring at those fixed glazed eyes，in silence for a moment，would play，Scrooge felt，the very deuce with him. There was something very awful，too，in the spectres 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，its skirts，and tassels were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.
“ You see this toothpick ？ ” said Scrooge，returning quickly to the charge，for the reason just assigned；and wishing，though it were only for a second，to pert the vision’s stony gaze from himself.
“ I do，” replied the ghost.
“ You are not looking at it，” said Scrooge.
“ But I see it，” said the ghost，“ notwithstanding.”
“Well！” returned Scrooge，“I have but to swallow this，and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins，all of my own creation. Humbug，I tell you—humbug！”
At this the spirit raised a frightful cry，and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise，that Scrooge held on tight to his chair，to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror，when the phantom taking off the bandage round its head，as if it were too warm to wear indoors，its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast！
Scrooge fell upon his knees，and clasped his hand 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 ？ ”
“ I do，” said Scrooge. “ I must. But why do spirits walk the earth，and why do they come to me ？ ”
“ It is required of every man，”the ghost returned，“ that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men，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 spectre 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 <i>you</i> ？ ”
Scrooge trembled more and more.
“ Or would you know，” pursued the ghost，“ the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself ？ It was full as heavy and long as this，seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it，since. It is a ponderous chain！”
Scrooge glanced about him on the floor，in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable：but he could see nothing.
“ Jacob，” he said imploringly. “ Old Jacob Marley，tell me more. Speak comfort to me，Jacob！
“ I have none to give，”the ghost replied. “ It conies from other regions，Ebenezer Scrooge，and is conveyed by other ministers，to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more，is all permitted to me. I cannot rest，I cannot stay，I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house— mark me！—in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole；and weary journeys lie before me！”
It was a habit with Scrooge，whenever he became thoughtful，to put his hand in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the ghost had said，he did so now，but without lifting up his eyes，or getting off his knees.
“You must have been very slow about it，Jacob，” Scrooge observed，in a business-like manner，though with humility and deference.
“ Slow！” the ghost repeated.
“ Seven years dead，” mused Scrooge. “ And travelling all the time ？ ”
“ The whole time，” said the ghost. “ No rest，no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.”
“ You travel fast ？ ” said Scrooge.
“ On the wings of the wind，” replied the ghost.
“You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years，” said Scrooge.
The ghost，on hearing this set up another cry，and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead of the night，that the ward would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.
“ Oh！captive，bound，and double-ironed，” cried the phantom，“not to know，that ages of incessant labour，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 may be，will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunities 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. The common welfare was my business；charity，mercy，forbearance，and benevolence，were，all，my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business！”
It held up its chain at arm’s length，as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief，and flung it heavily upon the ground again.
“ At this time of the rolling year，” the spectre said，“I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode ？ Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted <i>me</i> ？ ”
Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate，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 me！Don’t be flowery，Jacob！Pray！”
“ How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see，I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.”
It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered，and wiped the perspiration from his brow.
“ That is no light part of my penance，” pursued the ghost. “ I am here to-night to warn you，that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring. Ebenezer.”
“You were always a good friend to me，” said Scrooge. “ Thank’ee！”
“ You will be haunted，”resumed the ghost，“ by three spirits.”
Scrooges countenance fell almost as 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—I think I’d rather not，” said Scrooge.
“ Without their visits，” said the ghost，“ you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow，when the bell tolls one.”
“Couldn’t I take ’em all at once，and have it over，Jacob ？ ” hinted Scrooge.
“Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more；and look that，for your own sake，you remember what has passed between us！”
When it had said these words，the spectre took its wrapper from the table，and bound it round its head，as before. Scrooge knew this，by the smart sound its teeth made，when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again，and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an erect attitude，with its chain wound over and about its arm.
The apparition walked backward from him；and at every step it took，the window raised itself a little，so that when the spectre reached it，it was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach，which he did. When they were within two paces of each other，Marley’s ghost held up its hand，warning him to come no nearer. Scrooge stopped.
Not so much in obedience，as in surprise and fear；for on the raising of the hand，he became sensible of confused noises in the air；incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret；wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self-accusatory. The spectre，after listening for a moment，joined in the mournful dirge；and floated out upon the bleak，dark night.
Scrooge followed to the window：desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.
The air was filled with phantoms，wandering hither and thither in restless haste，and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains like Marley’s ghost；some few （they might be guilty governments） were linked together；none were free. Many had been personally known to Scrooge in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost，in a white waistcoat，with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle，who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant，whom it saw below，upon a doorstep. The misery with them all was，clearly，that they sought to interfere，for good，in human matters，and had lost the power for ever.
Whether these creatures faded into mist，or mist enshrouded them，he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together；and the night became as it had been when he walked home.
Scrooge closed the window，and examined the door by which the ghost had entered. It was double-locked，as he had locked it with his own hands，and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say “ Humbug！” but stopped at the first syllable. And being，from the emotion he had undergone，or the fatigues of the day，or his glimpse of the invisible world，or the dull conversation of the ghost，or the lateness of the hour，much in need of repose，went straight to bed，without undressing，and fell asleep upon the instant.

Stave Two
THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS
When Scrooge awoke，it was so dark，that，looking out of bed，he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes，when the chimes of a neighbouring church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour.
To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven，and from seven to eight，and regularly up to twelve；then stopped. Twelve！it was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve！
He touched the spring of his repeater，to correct this most preposterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve；and stopped.
“ Why，it isn’t possible，” said Scrooge，“ that I can have slept through a whole day and far into another night. It isn’t possible that anything has happened to the sun，and this is twelve at noon！”
The idea being an alarming one，he scrambled out of bed，and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything；and could see very little then. All he could make out was，that it was still very foggy and extremely cold，and that there was no noise of people running to and fro，and making a great stir，as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten off bright day，and taken possession of the world. This was a great relief，because “ three days after sight of this first of exchange pay to Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge or his order，” and so forth，would have become a mere United States’ security if there were no days to count by.
Scrooge went to bed again，and thought，and thought，and thought it over and over and over，and could make nothing of it. The more he thought the more perplexed he was；and the more he endeavoured not to think，the more he thought.
Marley’s ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself，after mature inquiry，that it was all a dream，his mind flew back again，like a strong spring released，to its first position，and presented the same problem to be worked all through，“ Was it a dream or not ？ ”
Scrooge lay in this state until the chime had gone three quarters more，when he remembered，on a sudden，that the ghost had warned 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 quarter was so long，that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously，and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.
“Ding，dong！”.
“ A quarter past，” said Scrooge，counting.
“ Ding，dong！”
“ Half-past！” said Scrooge.
“ Ding，dong！”
“A quarter to it，” said Scrooge.
“ Ding，dong！”
“The hour itself，” said Scrooge triumphantly，“ and nothing else！
He spoke before the hour bell sounded，which it now did with a deep，dull，hollow，melancholy ONE. Light flashed up in the room upon the instant，and the 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 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 medium which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view，and being diminished to a child’s proportions. Its hair，which hung about its neck and down its back，was white as if with age；and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it，and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular；the hands the same，as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet，most delicately formed，were，like those upper members，bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white；and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt，the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its had；and，in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem，had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was，that from the crown of its head there sprang a bright，clear jet of light，by which all this was visible；and which was doubtless the occasion of its using，in its duller moments，a great extinguisher for a cap，which it now held under its arm.
Even this，though，when Scrooge looked at it with increasing steadiness，was <i>not</i> its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another，and what was light one instant，at another time was dark，so the figure itself fluctuated in its distinctness；now being a thing with one arm，now with one leg，now with twenty legs，now a pair of legs without a head，now a head without a body；of which dissolving parts，no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away. 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 beside him，it were at a distance.
“ Who，and what are you ？ ” Scrooge demanded.
“ I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“ Long past ？” inquired Scrooge，observant of his dwarfish stature.
“No. Your past.”
Perhaps Scrooge could not have told anybody why，if anybody could have asked him，but he had a special desire to see the spirit in his cap；and begged him to be covered.
“What！” exclaimed the ghost，“would you so soon put out，with worldly hands，the light I give ？ Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap，and force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow ？ ”
Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend，or any knowledge of having wilfully “ bonneted ” the spirit at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
“ Your welfare！” said the ghost.
Scrooge expressed himself much obliged，but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The spirit must have heard him thinking，for it said immediately—
“ Your reclamation，then. Take heed！”
It put out its strong hand as it spoke，and clasped him gently by the arm.
“ Rise！and walk with me！”
It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes；that bed was warm，and the thermometer a long way below freezing；that he was clad but lightly in his slippers，dressing-gown，and nightcap；and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp，though gentle as a woman’s hand，was not to be resisted. He rose；but finding that the spirit made towards the window，clasped its robe in supplication.
“I am a mortal，” Scrooge remonstrated，“and liable to fall.”
“ Bear but a touch of my hand <i>there</i>，” said the spirit，laying it upon his heart，“ and you shall be upheld in more than this！”
As the words were spoken，they passed through the wail，and stood upon an open country road，with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it，for it was a clear，cold，winter day，with snow upon the ground.
“ Good Heaven！” said Scrooge，clasping his hands together，as he looked about him. “ I was bred in this place. I was a boy here！”
The spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch，though it had been light and instantaneous，appeared still present to the old man’s sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air，each one connected with a thousand thoughts，and hopes，and joys，and cares long，long forgotten！
“ Your lip is trembling，”said the ghost. “ 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.” They walked along the road—Scrooge recognising every gate，and post，and tree—until a little market-town appeared in the distance，with its bridge，its church，and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards them with boys upon their backs，who called to other boys in country gigs and carts，driven by farmers. All these boys were in great spirits，and shouted to each other，until the broad fields were so full of merry music，that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
“ These are but shadows of the things that have been，” said the ghost. “They have no consciousness of us.”
The jocund travellers came on；and as they came，Scrooge knew and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them？ Why did his cold eye glisten，and his heart leap up as they went past？ Why was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry Christmas，as they parted at crossroads and byways，for their several homes ？ What was Merry Christmas to Scrooge ？ Out upon Merry Christmas！What good had it ever done to him ？
“ The school is not quite deserted，” said the ghost. “ A solitary child，neglected by his friends，is left there still.”
Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
They left the high road，by a well-remembered lane，and soon approached a mansion of dull red brick，with a little weather-cock-surmounted cupola on the roof，and a bell hanging in it. It was a large house，but one of broken fortunes；for the spacious offices were little used，their walls were damp and mossy，their windows broken，and their gates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables；and the coach-houses and sheds were overrun with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state，within；for entering the dreary hall，and glancing through the open doors of many rooms，they found them poorly furnished，cold and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air，a hilly bareness in the place，which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candlelight，and not too much to eat.
They went，the ghost and Scrooge，across the hall，to a door at the back of the house. It opened before them，and disclosed a long，bare，melancholy room，made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire；and Scrooge sat down upon a form，and wept to see his poor forgotten self as he had used to be.
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 storehouse door，no，not a clicking in the fire，but fell upon the heart of Scrooge with softening influence，and gave a freer passage to his tears.
The spirit touched him on the arm，and pointed to his younger self，intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man，in foreign garments—wonderfully real and distinct to look at—stood outside the window，with an axe stuck in his belt，and leading by the bridle an ass laden with wood.
“ Why，it’s Ali Baba！” Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. “ It，s dear old honest Ali Baba！Yes，yes，I know！One Christmas time，when yonder solitary child was left here all alone，he <i>did</i> come，for the first time，just like that. Poor boy！And Valentine，”said Scrooge，“and his wild brother Orson；there they go！And what’s his name，who was put down in his drawers，asleep，at the gate of Damascus；don’t you see him ？ And the Sultan’s Groom turned upside-down by the Genii；there he is upon his head！Serve him right！I’m glad of it. What business had <i>he</i> to be married to the Princess ？”
To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature on such subjects，in a most extraordinary voice between laughing and crying，and to see his heightened and excited face，would have been a surprise to his business friends in the city，indeed.
“ There&#39;s the parrot，” cried Scrooge. “ Green body and yellow tail，with a thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his head；there he is！Poor Robin Crusoe，he called him，when he came home again after sailing round the island. ‘ Poor Robin Crusoe，where have you been，Robin Crusoe ？ ’ The man thought he was dreaming，but he wasn’t. It was the parrot，you know. There goes Friday，running for his life to the little creek！Hollo！Hoop！Hollo！”
Then，with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual character，he said，in pity for his former self，“ Poor boy！” and cried again.
“ I wish，” Scrooge muttered，putting his hand in his pocket，and looking about him，after drying his eyes with his cuff—“ but it’s too late now.”
“ What is the matter ？ ” asked the spirit.
“ Nothing，” said Scrooge. “ Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something；that’s all.”
The ghost smiled thoughtfully，and waved its hand，saying as it did so，“Let us see another Christmas！”
Scrooge’s former self grew large at the words，and the room became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrank，the windows cracked；fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling，and the naked laths were shown instead；but how all this was brought about，Scrooge knew no more than you do. He only knew that it was quite correct；that everything had happened so；that there he was，alone again，when all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays.
He was not reading now，but walking up and down despairingly. Scrooge looked at the ghost，and with a mournful shaking of his head，glanced anxiously towards the door.
It opened；and a little girl，much younger than the boy，came darting in，and putting her arms about his neck，and often kissing him，addressed him as her “ Dear，dear brother.”
“ I have come to bring you home，dear brother！” said the child，clapping her tiny hands，and bending down to laugh.“To bring you home，home，home！”
“ Home，little Fan ？ ” returned the boy.
“ Yes！” said the child，brimful of glee. “Home，for good and all. Home，for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be，that home’s like heaven！He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed，that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home；and he said Yes，you should；and sent me in a coach to bring you. And you’re to be a man！” said the child，opening her eyes，“ and are never to come back here；but first，were to be together all the Christmas long，and have the merriest time in all the world.”
“You are quite a woman，little Fan！” exclaimed the boy.
She clapped her hands and laughed，and tried to touch his head；but being too little，laughed again，and stood on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him，in her childish eagerness，towards the door；and he，nothing loth to go，accompanied her.
A terrible voice in the hall cried，“ Bring down Master Scrooge’s box，there！” and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself，who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferocious condescension，and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and his sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlour that ever was seen，where the maps upon the wall，and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the windows，were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine，and a block of curiously heavy cake，and administered instalments of those dainties to the young people；at the same time，sending out a negro servant to offer a glass of “ something ” to the postboy，who answered that he thanked the gentleman，but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before，he had rather not. Master Scrooge’s trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the chaise，the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly；and getting into it drove gaily down the garden sweep：the quick wheels dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.
“Always a delicate creature，whom a breath might have withered，”said the ghost. “ But she had a large heart！”
“So she had，” cried Scrooge. “You’re right I will not gainsay it，spirit. God forbid！”
“ She died a woman，” said the ghost，“ and had as I think，children.”
“ One child，” Scrooge returned.
“ True，” said the ghost. “ Your nephew！”
Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind；and an swered briefly，“ Yes.”
Although they had but that moment left the school behind them，they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city，where shadowy passengers passed and repassed；where shadowy carts and coaches battled for the way，and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough，by the dressing of the shops，that here too it was Christmas time again；but it was evening，and the streets were lighted up.
The ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door，and asked Scrooge if he knew it.
“ Know it！” said Scrooge. “ Was I apprenticed here！”
They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig，sitting behind such a high desk，that if he had been two inches taller he must have knocked his head against the ceiling，Scrooge cried in great excitement—
“ Why，it’s old Fezziwig！Bless his heart；it’s Fezziwig alive again；”
Old Fezziwig laid down his pen，and looked up at the clock，which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands；adjusted his capacious waistcoat；laughed all over himself，from his shoes to his organ of benevolence；and called out in a comfortable，oily，rich，fat，jovial voice—
“Yo ho，there！Ebenezer！Dick！”
Scrooge’s former self，now grown a young man，came briskly in，accompanied by his fellow- ’prentice.
“ Dick Wilkins，to be sure！” said Scrooge to the ghost. “ Bless me，yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me，was Dick. Poor Dick！Dear，dear！”
   
“Yo ho，my boys！” said Fezziwig. “No more work to-night. Christmas Eve，Dick. Christmas，Ebenezer！Let’s have the shutters up，” cried old Fezziwig，with a sharp clap of his hands，“ before a man can say Jack Robinson！”
You wouldn’t believe how those two fellows went at it！They charged into the street with the shutters—one，two，three—had ’em up in their places—four，five，six—barred &#39;em and pinned ’em—seven，eight，nine—and came back before you could have got to twelve，panting like racehorses.
“ Hilli-ho！” cried old Fezziwig，skipping down from the high desk with wonderful agility. “ Clear away，my lads，and let’s have lots of room here！Hilli-ho，Dick！Chirrup，Ebenezer！”
Clear away！There was nothing they wouldn’t have cleared away，or couldn’t have cleared away，with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off，as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore；the floor was swept and watered，the lamps were trimmed，fuel was heaped upon the fire；and the warehouse was as snug，and warm，and dry，and bright a ballroom，as you would desire to see upon a winter’s night.
In came a fiddler with a music-book，and went up to the lofty desk，and made an orchestra of it，and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig，one vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses Fezziwig，beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid，with her cousin，the baker. In came the cook，with her brother’s particular friend，the milkman. In came the boy from over the way，who was suspected of not having board enough from his master；trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one，who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all came，one after another；some shyly，some boldly，some gracefully，some awkwardly，some pushing，some pulling；in they all came，anyhow and every- how. Away they all went，twenty couple at once；hands half round and back again the other way；down the middle and up again；round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping；old top couple always turning up in the wrong place；new top couple starting off again，as soon as they got there；all top couples at last and not a bottom one to help them！When this result was brought about，old Fezziwig，clapping his hands to stop the dance，cried out，“Well done！” and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter，especially provided for that purpose. But scorning rest upon his reappearance，he instantly began again，though there were no dances yet，as if the other fiddler had been carried home，exhausted，on a shutter，and he were a brand-new man resolved to beat him out of sight，or perish.
There were more dances，and there were forfeits，and more dances，and there was cake，and there was negus，and there was a great piece of cold roast，and there was a great piece of cold boiled，and there were mince-pies，and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the roast and boiled，when the fiddler （an artful dog，mind！the sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told it him！） struck up “ Sir Roger de Coverley.” Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple，too；with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them；three or four-and-twenty pair of partners；people who were not to be trifled with；people who <i>would</i> dance，and had no notion of walking.
   
But if they had been twice as many—ah，four times—old Fezziwig would have been a match for them，and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to <i>her</i>，she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that’s not high praise，tell me higher，and I’ll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig’s calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn’t have predicted，at any given time，what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance—advance and retire，both hands to your partner，bow and curtsy，corkscrew，thread-the-needle，and back again to your place—Fezziwig “ cut ”—cut so deftly，that he appeared to wink with his legs，and came upon his feet again without a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven，this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations，one on either side of the door，and shaking hands with every person inpidually，as he or she went out，wished him or her A Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two ’prentices，they did the same to them；and thus the cheerful voices died away，and the lads were left to their beds；which were under a counter in the back shop.
During the whole of this time，Scrooge had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene，and with his former self. He corroborated everything，remembered everything，enjoyed everything，and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now，when the bright faces of his former self and Dick were turned from them，that he remembered the ghost，and became conscious that it was looking full upon him，while the light upon its head burned very clear.
“ A small matter，”said the ghost，“ to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”
“ Small！” echoed Scrooge.
The spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices，who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig；and when he had done so，said—
“ Why！Is it not ？ He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money；three or four，perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise ？ ”
“ 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 ？ The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.”
He felt the spirit’s glance，and stopped.
“What is the matter ？ ” asked the ghost.
“ Nothing particular，”said Scrooge.
“ Something，I think ？ ” the ghost insisted.
“ No，” said Scrooge. “ No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That’s all.”
His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish；and Scrooge and the ghost again stood side by side in the open air.
“ My time grows short，” observed the spirit. “ Quick！”
This was not addressed to Scrooge，or to any one whom he could see，but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw himself. He was older now；a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years；but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager，greedy，restless motion in the eye，which showed the passion that had taken root，and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.
He was not alone，but sat by the side of a fair young girl in mourning-dress；in whose eyes there were tears，which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past.
“ It matters little，” she said softly. “ To you very little. Another idol has displaced me；and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come，as I would have tried to do，I have no just cause to grieve.”
“ What idol has displaced you ？ ” he rejoined.
“ A golden one.”
‘‘ This is the even-handed dealing of the world！” he said. “ There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty；and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth！”
“You fear the world too much，” she answered gently. “ All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one，until the master-passion，gain，engrosses you. Have I not ？ ”
“ What then ？ ” he retorted. “ Even if I have grown so much wiser，what then ？ I am not changed towards you.”
She shook her head.
“ Am I ？ ”
“Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so，until，in good season，we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You <i>are</i> changed. When it was made，you were another man.”
“ I was a boy，” he said impatiently.
“Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are，” she returned. “ I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart，is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this，I will not say. It is enough that I <i>have</i> thought of it，and can release you.”
“ Have I ever sought release ？ ”
“ In words ？ No. Never.”
“ In what，then ？ ”
“In a changed nature；in an altered spirit；in another atmosphere of life；another hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us，” said the girl，looking mildly，but with steadiness，upon him；“ tell me，would you seek me out and try to win me now ？ Ah，no！”
He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition，in spite of himself. But he said，with a struggle，“You think not.”
“ I would gladly think otherwise if I could，” she answered，“ Heaven knows！When <i>I</i> have learned a truth like this，I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free to-day，to-morrow，yesterday，can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl—you who，in your very confidence with her，weigh everything by gain；or，choosing her，if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so，do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow ？ I do；and I release you. With a full heart，for the love of him you once were.”
He was about to speak；but with her head turned from him，she resumed.
“You may—the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will—have pain in this. A very，very brief time，and you will dismiss the recollection of it，gladly，as an unprofitable dream，from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen！”
She left him，and they parted.
“ Spirit！” said Scrooge，“ show me no more！Conduct me home. Why do you delight to torture me ？ ”
“ One shadow more！” exclaimed the ghost.
“ No more！” cried Scrooge. “ No more. I don’t wish to see it. Show me no more！”
But the relentless ghost pinioned him in both his arms，and forced him to observe what happened next.
They were in another scene and place；a room，not very large or handsome，but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful young girl，so like that last that Scrooge believed it was the same，until he saw her，now a comely matron，sitting opposite her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous，for there were more children there than Scrooge in his agitated state of mind could count；and，unlike the celebrated herd in the poem，they were not forty children conducting themselves like one，but every child was conducting itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief；but no one seemed to care；on the contrary，the mother and daughter laughed heartily，and enjoyed it very much；and the latter，soon beginning to mingle in the sports，got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them ？ Though I never could have been so rude，no，no！I wouldn’t for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair，and torn it down；and for the precious little shoe，I wouldn’t have plucked it off，God bless my soul！to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport，as they did，bold young brood，I couldn’t have done it；I should have expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment，and never come straight again. And yet I should have dearly liked，I own，to have touched her lips；to have questioned her，that she might have opened them；to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes，and never raised a blush；to have let loose waves of hair，an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price：in short，I should have liked，I do confess，to have had the lightest license of a child，and yet to have been man enough to know its value.
But now a knocking at the door was heard，and such a rush immediately ensued that she，with laughing face and plundered dress，was borne towards it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group，just in time to greet the father，who came home attended by a man laden with Christmas toys and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling，and the onslaught that was made on the defenceless porter！The scaling him，with chairs for ladders，to pe into his pockets，despoil him of brown-paper parcels，hold on tight by his cravat，hug him round his neck，pommel his back，and kick his legs in irrepressible affection！The shouts of wonder and delight with which the development of every package was received！The terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting a dolls frying-pan into his mouth，and was more than suspected of having swallowed a fictitious turkey，glued on a wooden platter！The immense relief of finding this a false alarm！The joy，and gratitude，and ecstasy！They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour and by one stair at a time，up to the top of the house；where they went to bed，and so subsided.
And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever，when the master of the house，having his daughter leaning fondly on him，sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside；and when he thought that such another ereature，quite as graceful and as full of promise，might have called him father，and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life，his sight grew very dim indeed.
“ Belle，” said the husband，turning to his wife，with a smile，“ I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.”
“ Who was it ？ ”
“ Guess！，’
“How can I？ Tut，don’t I kno&#39;v，”she added in the same breath，laughing as he laughed. “ Mr. Scrooge.”
“ Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window；and as it was not shut up，and he had a candle inside，I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death，I hear；and there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world，I do believe.”
“ Spirit！” said Scrooge，in a broken voice，“remove me from this place.”
“ I told you these were shadows of the things that have been，” said the ghost. “ That they are what they are，do not blame me！”
“ Remove me！” Scrooge exclaimed. “ I cannot bear it！”
He turned upon the ghost，and seeing that it looked upon him with a face in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown him，wrestled with it.
“ Leave me！Take me back. Haunt me no longer！”
In the struggle，if that can be called a struggle in which the ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary，Scrooge observed that its light was burning high and bright；and dimly connecting that with its influence over him，he seized the extinguisher-cap，and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its head.
The spirit dropped beneath it，so that the extinguisher covered its whole form；but though Scrooge pressed it down with all his force，he could not hide the light，which streamed from under it in an unbroken flood upon the ground.
He was conscious of being exhausted，and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness；and，further，of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a parting squeeze，in which his hand relaxed；and had barely time to reel to bed，before he sank into a heavy sleep.

Stave Three
THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS
Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore，and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together，Scrooge had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of one. He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time，for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to him through Jacob Marley’s intervention. But，finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would draw back，he put them every one aside with his own hands，and lying down again，established a good look-out all round the bed；for he wished to challenge the spirit on the moment of its appearance，and did not wish to be taken by surprise，and made nervous.
Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort，who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two，and being usually equal to the time-of-day，express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter；between which opposite extremes，no doubt，there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Scrooge quite as hardily as this，I don’t mind calling on you to believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances，and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished him very much.
Now，being prepared for almost anything，he was not by any means prepared for nothing；and，consequently，when the bell struck one，and no shape appeared，he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five minutes，ten minutes，a quarter of an hour went by，yet nothing came. All this time，he lay upon his bed，the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light，which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour；and which，being only light，was more alarming than a dozen ghosts，as he was powerless to make out what it meant，or would be at；and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that 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 have thought at first；for it is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it，and would unquestionably have done it too—at last I say，he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room，from whence，on further tracing it，it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind，he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.
The moment Scrooges hand was on the lock，a strange voice called him by his name，and bade him enter. He obeyed.
It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green，that it looked a perfect grove；from every part of which，bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly，mistletoe，and ivy reflected back the light，as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there；and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney，as that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrooge’s time，or Marley’s，or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor，to form a kind of throne，were turkeys，geese，game，poultry，brawn，great joints of meat，sucking-pigs，long wreaths of sausages，mince-pies，plum-pud-dings，barrels of oysters，red-hot chestnuts，cherry-cheeked apples，juicy oranges，luscious pears，immense twelfth-cakes，and seething bowls of punch，that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch，there sat a jolly giant，glorious to see；who bore a glowing torch，in shape not unlike Plenty’s horn，and held it up，high up，to shed its light on Scrooge，as he came peeping round the door.
“ Come in！” exclaimed the ghost. “ Come in！and know me better，man！”
Scrooge entered timidly，and hung his head before this spirit. 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. This garment hung so loosely on the figure，that its capacious breast was bare，as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet，observable beneath the ample folds of the garment，were also bare；and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath，set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark-brown curls were long and free；free as its genial face，its sparkling eye，its open hand，its cheery voice，its unconstrained demeanour，and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard；but no sword was in it，and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.
“You have never seen the like of me before！” exclaimed the spirit.
“Never，Scrooge made answer to it.
“ Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family；meaning （for I am very young） my elder brothers born in these later years ？”pursued the phantom.
“ I don’t think I have，” said Scrooge. “ I am afraid I have 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 me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion，and I learned a lesson which is working now. To-night，if you have aught 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，game，poultry，brawn，meat，pigs，sausages，oysters，pies，puddings，fruit，and punch，all vanished instantly. So did the room，the fire，the ruddy glow，the hour of night，and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning，where （for the weather was severe） the people made a rough，but brisk and not unpleasant，kind of music，in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings，and from the tops of their houses，whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below，and splitting into artificial little snow-storms.
The house fronts looked black enough，and the windows blacker，contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs，and with the dirtier snow upon the ground；which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons；furrows that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets branehed off；and made intricate channels，hard to trace，in the thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy，and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist，half thawed，half frozen，whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms，as if all the chimneys in Great Britain had，by one consent，caught fire，and were blazing away to their dear hearts，content. There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town，and yet there was an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.
For the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial and full of glee；calling out to one another from the parapets，and now and then exchanging a facetious snow-ball—better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest—laughing heartily if it went right，and not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers’ shops were still half open，and the fruiterers’ were radiant in their glory. There were great，round，potbellied baskets of chestnuts，shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen，lolling at the doors，and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy，brown-faced，broad-girthed Spanish onions，shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish friars，and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by，and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples，clustered high in blooming pyramids；there were bunches of grapes，made，in the shopkeepers，benevolence，to dangle from conspicuous hooks，that people’s mouths might water gratis as they 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 the yellow of the oranges and lemons，and，in the great compactness of their juicy persons，urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper-bags and eaten after dinner. The very gold and silver fish，set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl，though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race，appeared to know that there was something going on；and，to a fish，went gasping round and round their little world in slow and passionless excitement.
The grocers’！oh，the grocers’！nearly closed，with perhaps two shutters down，or one；but through those gaps such glimpses！It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound，or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly，or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks，or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose，or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare，the almonds so extremely white，the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight，the other spices so delicious，the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy，or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly decorated boxes，or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress. But the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day，that they tumbled up against each other at the door，crashing their wicker baskets wildly，and left their purchases upon the counter，and came running back to fetch them，and committed hundreds of the like mistakes，in the best humour possible；while the grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own，worn outside for general inspection，and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.
But soon the steeples called good people all to church and chapel，and away they came，flocking through the streets in their best clothes，and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of by-streets，lanes，and nameless turnings，innumerable people，carrying their dinners to the bakers’ shops. The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest the spirit very much，for he stood with Scrooge beside him in a baker’s doorway，and taking off the covers as their bearers passed，sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch，for once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other，he shed a few drops of water on them from it，and their good-humour was restored directly. For they said，it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was！God love it，so it was！
In time the bells ceased，and the bakers’ were shut up；and yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their cooking，in the thawed blotch of wet above caeh baker’s oven；where the pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.
“ Is there a peeuliar flavour in what you sprinkle from your 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.
“ Beeause it needs it most.”
“ Spirit，”said Scrooge，after a moment’s thought，“ I wonder you，of all the beings in the many worlds about us，should desire to cramp these people’s opportunities of innoeent enjoyment.”
“ I ？”cried the spirit.
“You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day，often the only day on which they can be said to dine 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.”
“ <i>I</i> seek ？ ” exelaimed the spirit.
“ Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name，or at least in that of your family，” said Serooge.
“ 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. Remember that，and charge 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 was a remarkable quality of the ghost （which Scrooge had observed at the baker’s） that，notwithstanding his gigantic size，he could accommodate himself to any place with ease；and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like a supernatural creature，as it was possible he could have done in any lofty hall.
And perhaps it was the pleasure the good spirit had in showing 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 the threshold of the door the spirit smiled，and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit’s dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think of that！Bob had but fifteen “ Bob ” a week himself；he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name；and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house！
Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit，Cratchit’s wife，dressed out but poorly in a twicc-turned gown，but brave in ribbons，which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence；and she laid the cloth，assisted by Belinda Cratchit，second of her daughters，also brave in ribbons；while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes，and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar （Bob’s private property conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day） into his mouth，rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired，and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable parks. And now two smaller Cratchits，boy and girl，came tearing in，screaming that outside the baker’s they had smelled the goose，and known it for their own；and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion，these young Cratchits danced about the table，and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies，while he （not proud，although his collars nearly choked him） blew the fire，until the slow potatoes bubbling up，knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.
“ What has ever got your precious father then ？ ” said Mrs. Cratchit. “ And your brother，Tiny Tim！And Martha warn’t as late last Christmas Day by half an hour.”
“Here’s Martha，mother！” said a girl，appearing as she spoke.
“ Here’s Martha，mother！” cried the two young Cratchits. “ Hurrah！There’s <i>such</i> a goose，Martha！”
“Why，bless your heart alive，my dear，how late you are！” said Mrs. Cratchit，kissing her a dozen times，and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.
“ We’d a deal of work to finish up last night，” replied the girl，“ and had to clear away this morning，mother！”
“Well！Never mind so long as you are come，” said Mrs. Cratchit. “ Sit ye down before the fire，my dear，and have a warm，Lord bless ye！”
“ No，no！There’s father coming，” cried the two young Cratchits，who were everywhere at once. “ Hide，Martha，hide！”
So Martha hid herself，and in came little Bob，the father，with at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe hanging down before him；and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed to look seasonable；and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim，he bore a little crutch，and had his limbs supported by an iron frame！
“ Why，where’s our Martha ？ ” cried Bob Cratchit，looking round.
“ Not coming，” said Mrs. Cratchit.
“ Not coming！” said Bob，with a sudden declension in his high spirits；for he had been Tim’s blood-horse all the way from church，and had come home rampant. “ Not coming upon Christmas Day！”
Martha didn’t like to see him disappointed，if it were only in joke；so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door，and ran into his arms，while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim，and bore him off into the wash-house，that he might 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 Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content.
“ As good as gold，”said Bob，“ and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful，sitting by himselt so much，and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me，coming home，that he hoped the people saw him in the church，because he was a cripple，and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day who made lame beggars walk and blind men see.”
Bob’s voice was tremulous when he told them this，and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
   
His active little crutch was heard upon the floor，and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken，escorted by his brother and sister to his stool beside the fire；and while Bob，turning up his cuffs—as if，poor fellow，they were capable of being made more shabby—compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons，and stirred it round and round，and put it on the hob to simmer；Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose，with which they soon returned in high procession.
Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds；a feathered phenomenon，to which a black swan was a matter of course—and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy （ready beforehand in a little saucepan） hissing hot；Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour；Miss Belinda sweetened up the applesauce；Martha dusted the hot plates；Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table；the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody not forgetting themselves，and mounting guard upon their posts，crammed spoons into their mouths，lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on，and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause，as Mrs. Cratchit，looking slowly all along the carving-knife，prepared to plunge it in the breast；but when she did，and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth，one murmur of delight arose all round the board，and even Tiny Tim，excited by the two young Cratchits，beat on the table with the handle of his knife，and feebly cried Hurrah！
There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour，size and cheapness，were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes，it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family；indeed，as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight （surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish），they hadn’t ate it all at last！Yet every one had had enough，and the youngest Cratchits in particular，were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows！But now，the plates being changed by Miss Belinda，Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone—too nervous to bear witnesses—to take the pudding up，and bring it in.
Suppose it should not be done enough！Suppose it should break in turning out！Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard，and stolen it，while they were merry with the goose—a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid！All sorts of horrors were supposed.
Hollo！A great deal of steam！The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day！That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook’s next door to each other，with a laundress’s next door to that.
   
That was the pudding！In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered—flushed，but smiling proudly— with the pudding，like a speckled cannon-ball，so hard and firm，blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy，and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.
Oh，a wonderful pudding！Bob Cratchit said，and calmly too，that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind，she would confess that she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it，but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.
At last the dinner was all done，the cloth was cleared，the hearth swept，and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted，and considered perfect，apples and oranges were put upon the table，and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth，in what Bob Cratchit called a circle，meaning half a one；and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers，and a custard-cup without a handle.
   
These held the hot stuff from the jug，however，as well as golden goblets would have done；and Bob served it out with beaming looks，while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked 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 of all.
He sat very close to his father’s side，upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his，as if he loved the child，and wished to keep him by his side，and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
“ Spirit，” said Scrooge，with an interest he had never felt before，“tell me if Tiny Tim will live.”
“ I see a vacant seat，”replied the ghost，“ in the poor chimney-corner，and a crutch without an owner，carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future，the child will die.”
“ No，no，” said Scrooge. “ Oh，no，kind spirit！say he will be spared.”
“ If these shadows remain unaltered by the future，none other of my race，” returned the ghost，“ will find him here. 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 own words quoted by the spirit，and was overcome with penitence and grief.
“ Man，” said the ghost—“ if man you be in heart，not adamant—forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered what the surplus is，and where it is. Will you decide what men shall live，what men shall die？ It may be，that in the sight of Heaven，you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man’s child. O God！to hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust！”
Scrooge bent before the ghosts rebuke，and，trembling，cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily，on hearing 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 of my mind to feast upon，and I hope he’d have a good appetite for it.”
“ My dear，” said Bob，“ the children！Christmas Day.”
“ 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 the day’s，”said Mrs. Cratchit，“ not for his. Long life to him！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. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party，which was not dispelled for full five minutes.
After it had passed away，they were ten times merrier than before，from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter，which would bring in，if obtained，full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter’s being a man of business；and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his collars，as if he were deliberating what particular investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income. Martha，who was a poor apprentice at a milliner’s，then told them what kind of work she had to do，and how many hours she worked at a stretch，and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning，for a good long rest；to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also，how she had seen a countess and a lord some days before，and how the lord “ was much about as tall as Peter ”；at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you couldn’t have seen his head if you had been there. All this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round；and by and by they had a song，about a lost child travelling in the snow，from Tiny Tim，who had a plaintive little voice，and sang it very well indeed.
There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family；they were not well dressed；their shoes were far from being waterproof；their clothes were scanty；and Peter might have known，and very likely did，the inside of a pawnbrokers. But they were happy，grateful，pleased with one another，and contented with the time；and when they faded，and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the 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 pretty heavily；and as Scrooge and the spirit went along the streets，the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens，parlours，and all sorts of rooms，was wonderful. Here the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner，with hot plates baking through and through before the fire，and deep red curtains，ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There，all the children of the house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters，brothers，cousins，uncles，aunts，and be the first to greet them. Here again，were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling；and there a group of handsome girls，all hooded and fur-booted，and all chattering at once，tripped lightly off to some near neighbour’s house；where，woe upon the single man who saw them enter—artful witches，well they knew it—in a glow！
But，if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to friendly gatherings，you might have thought that no one was at home to give them welcome when they got there，instead of every house expecting company，and piling up its fires half-chimney high. Blessings on it，how the ghost exulted！How it bared its breadth of breast，and opened its capacious palm，and floated on，outpouring，with a generous hand，its bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach！The very lamplighter，who ran on before，dotting the dusky street with specks of light，and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere，laughed out loud as the spirit passed，though little kenned the lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas！
And now，without a word of warning from the ghost，they stood upon a bleak and desert moor，where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast about，as though it were the burial-place of giants；and water spread itself wheresoever it listed，or would have done so，but for the frost that held it prisoner；and nothing grew but moss and furze，and coarse，rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red，which glared upon the desolation for an instant，like a sullen eye，and frowning lower，lower，lower yet，was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.
“ What place is this ？ ” asked Scrooge.
“ A place where miners live，who labour in the bowels of the earth，” returned the spirit. “ But they know me. See！”
A light shone from the window of a hut，and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone，they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old，old man and woman，with their children and their children’s children，and another generation beyond that，all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man，in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste，was singing them a Christmas song—it had been a very old song when he was a boy—and from time to time they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices，the old man got quite blithe and loud；and so surely as they stopped，his vigour sank again.
The spirit did not tarry here，but bade Scrooge hold his robe，and passing on above the moor，sped—whither ？ Not to sea ？ To sea. To Scrooge’s horror，looking back，he saw the last of the land，a frightful range of rocks，behind them；and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water，as it rolled，and roared，and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn，and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.
Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rock，some league or so from shore，and on which the waters chafed and dashed，the wild year through，there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of seaweed clung to its base，and storm-birds—born of the wind one might suppose，as sea-weed of the water—rose and fell about it，like the waves they skimmed.
But even here，two men who watched the light had made a fire，that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their homy hands over the rough table at which they sat，they wished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog；and one of them—the elder，too，with his face all damaged and scarred with 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 any shore，they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel，the look-out in the bow，the officers who had the watch；dark，ghostly figures in their several stations；but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune，or had a Christmas thought，or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day，with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board，waking or sleeping，good or bad，had had a kinder word for one another on that day than on any day in the year；and had shared to some extent in its festivities；and had remembered those he cared for at a distance，and had known that they delighted to remember him.
It was a great surprise to Scrooge，while listening to the moaning of the wind，and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss，whose depths were secrets as profound as death—it was a great surprise to Scrooge，while thus engaged，to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognise it 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 man more blessed 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’ll cultivate his acquaintance.
It is a fair，even-handed，noble adjustment of things，that while there is infection in disease and sorrow，there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge’s nephew laughed in this way—holding his sides，rolling his head，and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions—Scrooge’s niece，by marriage，laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand，roared out lustily.
“ Ha，ha！Ha，ha，ha，ha！”
“He said that Christmas was a humbug，as I live！” cried Scrooges nephew. “ He believed it，too！”
“ More shame for him，Fred！” said Scrooge’s niece indignantly. Bless those women；they never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest.
She was very pretty—exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled，surprised-looking，capital face；a ripe little mouth，that seemed made to be kissed—as no doubt it was；all kinds of good little dots about her chin，that melted into one another when she laughed；and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature’s head. Altogether，she was what you would have called provoking，you know；but satisfactory，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 have nothing to say against him.”
“ I’m sure he is very rich，Fred，” hinted Scrooge’s niece. “ At least you always tell <i>me</i> so.”
“ What of that，my dear ？ ” said Scrooge’s nephew. “ His wealth is of no use to him. He don’t do any good with it. He don’t make himself comfortable with it. He hasn’t the satisfaction of thinking—ha，ha，ha！—that he is ever going to benefit us with it.”
“ I have no patience with him，” observed Scrooge’s niece. Scrooge’s niece’s sisters，and all the other ladies，expressed the same opinion.
“ Oh，I have！” said Scrooge’s nephew. “ I am sorry for him；I couldn’t be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims ？ Himself，always. Here，he takes it into his head to dislike us，and he won’t come and dine with us. What’s the consequence ？ He don’t lose much of a dinner.”
“ Indeed，I think he loses a very good dinner，” interrupted Scrooge’s niece. Everybody else said the same，and they must be allowed to have been competent judges，because they had just had dinner；and，with the dessert upon the table，were clustered round the fire，by lamplight.
“ Well！I am very glad to hear it，” said Scrooge’s nephew；“because I haven’t any great faith in these young housekeepers. What do <i>you</i> say，Topper？”
Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge’s niece’s sisters，for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast，who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge’s niece’s sister—the plump one with the lace tucker；not the one with the roses—blushed.
“Do go on，Fred，” said Scrooge’s niece，clapping her hands. “ He never finishes what he begins to say！He is such a ridiculous fellow！”
Scrooge’s nephew revelled in another laugh，and as it was impossible to keep the infection off—though the plump sister tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar—his example was unanimously followed.
“ I was only going to say，” said Scrooge’s nephew，“ that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us，and not making merry with us，is，as I think，that he loses some pleasant moments，which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts，either in his mouldy old office，or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year，whether he likes it or not，for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies，but he can’t help thinking better of it—I defy him —if he finds me going there，in good temper，year after year，and saying，Uncle Scrooge，how are you ？ If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds，<i>that&#39;s</i> something；and I think I shook him yesterday.”
It was their turn to laugh now，at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured，and not much caring what they laughed at，so that they laughed at any rate，he encouraged them in their merriment，and passed the bottle，joyously.
After tea，they had some music. For they were a musical family，and knew what they were about，when they sang a glee or catch，I can assure you：especially Topper，who could growl away in the bass like a good one，and never swell the large veins in his forehead，or get red in the face over it. Scrooge’s niece played well upon the harp；and played among other tunes a simple little air （a mere nothing：you might learn to whistle it in two minutes），which had been familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school，as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past When this strain of music sounded，all the things that ghost had shown him，came upon his mind；he softened more and more；and thought that if he could have listened to it often，years ago，he might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands，without resorting to the sexton’s spade that buried Jacob Marley.
But they didn’t devote the whole evening to music. After a while they played at forfeits；for it is good to be children sometimes，and never better than at Christmas，when its mighty Founder was a child Himself. Stop！There was first a game at blindman’s-buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots. My opinion is，that it was a done thing between him and Scrooges nephew；and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker，was an outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons，tumbling over the chairs，bumping up against the piano，smothering himself among the curtains，wherever she went，there went he！He always knew where the plump sister was. He wouldn’t catch anybody else. It you had fallen up against him （as some of them did） on purpose，he would have made a feint of endeavouring to seize you，which would have been an affront to your understanding，and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn’t fair：and it really was not. But when at last he caught her—when，in spite of all her silken rustlings，and her rapid flutterings past him，he got her into a corner whence there was no escape— then his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her—his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head-dress，and further to assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger，and a certain chain about her neck—was vile，monstrous！No doubt she told him her opinion of it，when，another blind- man being in office，they were so very confidential together，behind the curtains.
   
Scrooge’s niece was not one of the blindman’s- buff party，but was made comfortable with a large chair and a foot-stool，in a snug corner，where the ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the forfeits，and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How，When，and Where，she was very great，and，to the secret joy of Scrooge’s nephew，beat her sisters hollow：though they were sharp girls too，as Topper could have told you. There might have been twenty people there，young and old，but they all played，and so did Scrooge；for，wholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on，that his voice made no sound in their ears，he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud，and very often guessed right，too；for the sharpest needle，best Whitechapel warranted not to cut in the eye，was not sharper than Scrooge；blunt as he took it in his head to be.
The ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood，and looked upon him with such favour，that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the spirit said could not be done.
“ Here is a new game，” said Scrooge. “ One halfhour，spirit，only one！”
It was a game called Yes and No，where Scrooge’s nephew had to think of something，and the rest must find out what；he only answering to their questions yes or no，as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed，elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal，a live animal，rather a disagreeable animal，a savage animal，an animal that growled and grunted sometimes，and talked sometimes，and lived in London，and walked about the streets，and wasn’t made a show of，and wasn’t led by anybody，and didn’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 a tiger，or a dog，or a pig，or a cat，or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him，this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter；and was so inexpressibly tickled that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister，falling into a similar state，cried out—
“ I have found it out！I know what it is，Fred！I know what it is！”
“ What is it ？ ” cried Fred.
“ It’s your uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge！”
Which it certainly was. 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 perted 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. 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 take it from me，but may he have it，nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge！”
Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart，that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return，and thanked them in an inaudible speech，if the ghost had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew；and he and the spirit were again upon their travels.
Much they saw，and far they went，and many homes they visited，but always with a happy end. The spirit stood beside sick-beds，and they were cheerful；on foreign lands，and they were close at home；by struggling men，and they were patient in their greater hope；by poverty，and it was rich. In almshouse，hospital，and jail，in misery’s every refuge，where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast the door，and barred the spirit out，he left his blessing，and taught Scrooge his precepts.
It was a long night，if it were only a night；but Scrooge had his doubts of this，because the Christmas holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange，too，that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form，the ghost grew older，clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change，but never spoke of it，until they left a children’s Twelfth Night party，when，looking at the spirit as they stood together in an open space，he noticed that its hair was gray.
“ Are spirits’ lives so short ？ ” asked Scrooge.
“ My life upon this globe is very brief，” replied the ghost. “ It ends to-night.，’
“ To-night！” cried Scrooge.
“ To-night at midnight. Hark I The time is drawing near.”
The chimes were ringing the three-quarters-past eleven at that moment.
“ Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask，”said Scrooge，looking intently at the spirit’s robe，“ but I see something strange，and not belonging to yourself，protruding from 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 kneeled down at its feet，and clung upon the outside of its garment.
“ Oh，man！look here. Look，look，down here！” exclaimed the ghost.
They were a boy and girl. Yellow，meagre，ragged，scowling，wolfish；but prostrate，too，in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out，and touched them with its freshest tints，a stale and shrivelled hand，like that of age，had pinched and twisted them，and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned，devils lurked，and glared out menacing. No change，no degradation，no perversion of humanity，in any grade，through all the mysteries of wonderful creation，has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back，appalled. Having them shown to him in this way，he tried to say they were fine children，but the words choked themselves，rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
“ Spirit！are they yours ？ ” Scrooge could say no more.
“ They are man’s，” said the spirit，looking down upon them. “And they cling to me，appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. Thi girl is Want. Beware them both，and all of their degree，but most of all beware this boy，for on 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 who tell it ye！Admit it for your factious purposes，and make it worse！And bide the end.”
“ Have they no refuge or resource ？ ” cried Scrooge.
“ Are there no prisons ？” said the spirit，turning on him for the last time with his own words. “ Are there no workhouses ？ ”
The bell struck twelve.
Scrooge looked about for the ghost，and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate，he remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley，and lifting up his eyes，beheld a solemn phantom，draped and hooded，coming，like a mist along the ground，towards him.

Stave Four
THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS
The phantom slowly，gravely，silently approached. When it came near him，Scrooge bent down upon his knee；for in the very air through which this spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.
It was shrouded in a deep-black garment，which concealed its head，its face，its form，and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night，and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.
He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him，and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more，for the spirit neither spoke nor moved.
“ I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come ？ ” said Scrooge.
The spirit answered not，but pointed onward with his hand.
“You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened，but will happen in the time before us，”Scrooge pursued. “Is that so，spirit ？ ”
The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds，as if the spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.
Although well used to ghostly company by this time，Scrooge feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him，and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The spirit paused a moment，as observing his condition，and giving him time to recover.
But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror，to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him，while he，though he stretched his own to the utmost，could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.
“ Ghost of the future！” he exclaimed，“ I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good，and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was，I am prepared to bear you company，and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me ？ ”
It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.
“ Lead on！” said Scrooge. “ Lead on I The night is waning fast，and it is precious time to me，I know. Lead on，spirit！”
The phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress，which bore him up，he thought，and carried him along.
They scarcely seemed to enter the city；for the city rather seemed to spring up about them，and encompass them of its own act. But there they were，in the heart of it；on ’Change，amongst the merchants；who hurried up and down，and chinked the money in their pockets，and conversed in groups，and looked at their watches，and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals；and so forth，as Scrooge had seen them often.
The spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing that the hand was pointed to them，Scrooge advanced to listen to their talk.
“ No，” said a great fat man with a monstrous chin，“ I don’t know much about it either way. I only know he’s dead.”
“ When did he die ？ ” inquired another.
“ Last night，I believe.”
   
“ Why，what was the matter with him ？” asked a third，taking a vast quantity of snuff out of a very large snuff-box. “ I thought he’d never die.”
“ God knows，” said the first，with a yawn.
“ What has he done with his money ？ ” asked a red-faced gentleman with a pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose，that shook like the gills of a turkey-cock.
“ I haven’t heard，” said the man with the large chin，yawning again. “ Left it to his company，perhaps. He hasn’t left it to <i>me</i>. That’s all I know.”
This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.
“ It’s likely to be a very cheap funeral，”said the same speaker；“ for upon my life I don’t know of anybody to go to it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer？”
“ I don’t mind going if a lunch is provided，” observed the gentleman with the excrescence on his nose. “ But I must be fed，if I make one.”
Another laugh.
“ Well，I am the most disinterested among you，after all，” said the first speaker，“ for I never wear black gloves，and I never eat lunch. But I’ll offer to go，if anybody else will. When I come to think of it，I’m not at all sure that I wasn’t his most particular friend；for we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Bye，bye！”
Speakers and listeners strolled away，and mixed with other groups. Scrooge knew the men，and looked towards the spirit for an explanation.
The phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons meeting. Scrooge listened again，thinking that the explanation might lie here.
He knew these men，also，perfectly. They were men of business，very wealthy，and of great importance. He had made a point of always standing well in their esteem—in a business point of view，that is；strictly in a business point of view.
“ How are you ？ ” said one.
“ How are you ？ ” returned the other.
“Well！” said the first. “Old Scratch has got his own at last，hey ？”
“So I am told，” returned the second. “Cold，isn’t it ？ ”
“ Seasonable for Christmas time. You’re not a skater，I suppose ？ ”
“ No. No. Something else to think of. Good-morning！”
Not another word. That was their meeting，their conversation，and their parting.
Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the spirit should attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial；but feeling assured that they must have some hidden purpose，he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Jacob，his old partner，for that was past，and this ghost’s province was the future. Nor could he think of any one immediately connected with himself to whom he could apply them. But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some latent moral for his own improvement，he resolved to treasure up every word he heard，and everything he saw；and especially to observe the shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation that the conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed，and would render the solution of these riddles easy.
He looked about in that very place for his own image；but another man stood in his accustomed corner，and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there，he saw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the porch. It gave him little surprise，however；for he had been revolving in his mind a change of life，and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out in this.
Quiet and dark，beside him stood the phantom，with its outstretched hand. When he roused himself from his thoughful quest，he fancied from the turn of the hand，and its situation in reference to himself，that the unseen eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder，and feel very cold.
They left the busy scene，and went into an obscure part of the town，where Scrooge had never penetrated before，although he recognised its situation，and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow；the shops and houses wretched；the people half-naked，drunken，slipshod，ugly. Alleys and archways，like so many cesspools，disgorged their offences of smell，and dirt，and life，upon the straggling streets；and the whole quarter reeked with crime，with filth，and misery.
Far in this den of infamous resort，there was a low-browed，beetling shop，below a pent-house roof，where iron，old rags，bottles，bones，and greasy offal，were bought. Upon the floor within，were piled up heaps of rusty keys，nails，chains，hinges，files，scales，weights，and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise were bred and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags，masses of corrupted fat，and sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in，by a charcoal stove，made of old bricks，was a grayhaired rascal，nearly seventy years of age；who had screened himself from the cold air without，by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters，hung upon a line；and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.
Scrooge and the phantom came into the presence of this man，just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely entered，when another woman，similarly laden，came in too；and she was closely followed by a man in faded black，who was no less startled by the sight of them than they had been upon the recognition of each other. After a short period of blank astonishment，in which the old man with the pipe had joined them，they all three burst into a laugh.
“ Let the charwoman alone to be the first！” cried she who had entered first. “ Let the laundress alone to be the second；and let the undertakers man alone to be the third. Look here，old Joe，here’s a chance！If we haven’t all three met here without meaning it！”
“ You couldn’t have met in a better place，” said old Joe，removing his pipe from his mouth. “ Come into the parlour. You were made free of it long ago，you know；and the other two ain’t strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah！How it screaks！There ain’t such a rusty bit of metal in the place as its own hinges，I believe；and I’m sure there’s no such old bones here，as mine. Ha，ha！We’re all suitable to our calling；were well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the parlour.”
The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags；the old man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod，and having trimmed his smoky lamp （for it was night） with the stem of his pipe，put it into his mouth again.
While he did this，the woman who had already spoken threw her bundle on the floor and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool；crossing her elbows on her knees，and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.
“ What odds then！What odds，Mrs. Dilber ？ ” said the woman. “ Every person has a right to take care of themselves. <i>He</i> always did！”
“ That’s true，indeed！” said the laundress. “ No man，more so.”
“ Why then，don’t stand staring as if you was afraid，woman；who’s the wiser ？ Were not going to pick holes in each other’s coats，I suppose ？”
“ No，indeed！” said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. “We should hope not.”
“ Very well，then！” cried the woman. “ That’s enough. Who’s the worse for the loss of a few things like these ？ Not a dead man，I suppose.”
“ No，indeed，” said Mrs. Dilber，laughing.
“ If he wanted to keep ’em after he was dead，a wicked old screw，” pursued the woman，“ why wasn’t he natural in his lifetime ？ If he had been，he’d have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with death，instead of lying gasping out his last there，alone by himself.”
“ It’s the truest word that ever was spoke，” said Mrs. Dilber. “ It’s a judgment on him.”
“ I wish it was a little heavier judgment，”replied the woman；“ and it should have been，you may depend upon it，if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Open that bundle，old Joe，and let me know the value of it. Speak out plain I’m not afraid to be the first，nor afraid for them to see it. We knew pretty well that we were helping ourselves，before we met here，I believe. Its no sin. Open the bundle，Joe.”
But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this；and the man in faded black，mounting the breach first，produced <i>his</i> plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two，a pencil-case，a pair of sleeve-buttons，and a brooch of no great value，were all. They were severely examined and appraised by old Joe，who chalked the sums he was disposed to give for each，upon the wall，and added them up into a total when he found that there was nothing more to come.
“ That’s your account，” said Joe，“ and I wouldn’t give another sixpence，if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who’s next ？ ”
Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels，a little wearing apparel，two old-fashioned silver teaspoons，a pair of sugar-tongs and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.
“ I always give too much to ladies. It’s a weakness of mine，and that’s the way I ruin myself，” said old Joe. “That’s your account. If you asked me for another penny，and made it an open question，I’d repent of being so liberal，and knock off half a crown.”
“ And now undo <i>my</i> bundle，Joe，” said the first woman.
Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it，and having unfastened a great many knots，dragged out a large heavy roll of some dark stuff.
“ What do you call this ？ ” said Joe. “ Bed-curtains！”
“ Ah！”returned the woman，laughing and leaning forward on her crossed arms. “ Bed-curtains！”
“You don’t mean to say you took ’em down，rings and all，with him lying there ？ ” said Joe.
“ Yes，I do，” replied the woman. “ Why not ？ ”
“ You were born to make your fortune，” said Joe，“ and you’ll certainly do it.”
“ I certainly shan’t hold my hand，when I can get anything in it by reaching it out，for the sake of such a man as he was，I promise you，Joe，” returned the woman coolly. “ Don’t drop that oil upon the blankets，now.”
“ His blankets ？ ” asked Joe.
“ Whose else&#39;s do you think ？”replied the woman. “ He isn’t likely to take cold without ’em，I dare say.”
“ I hope he didn’t die of anything catching ？Eh？” said old Joe，stopping in his work，and looking up.
“ Don’t you be afraid of that，”returned the woman. “ I ain’t so fond of his company that I’d loiter about him for such things，if he did. Ah！You may look through that shirt till your eyes ache；but you won’t find a hole in it，nor a threadbare place. It’s the best he had，and a fine one too. They’d have wasted it if it hadn’t beer for me.”
“ What do you call wasting of it ？ ” asked old Joe.
“ Putting it on him to be buried in，to be sure，” replied the woman，with a laugh. “ Somebody was fool enough to do it，but I took it off again. If calico ain’t good enough for such a purpose，it isn’t good enough for anything. It’s quite as becoming to the body. He can’t look uglier than he did in that one.”
Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil，in the scanty light afforded by the old man’s lamp，he viewed them with a detestation and disgust，which could hardly have been greater，though they had been obscene demons，marketing the corpse itself.
“ Ha，ha！” laughed the same woman，when old Joe，producing a flannel bag with money in it，told out their several gains upon the ground. “ This is the end of it，you see. He frightened every one away from him when he was alive，to profit us when he was dead！Ha，ha，ha！”
“ Spirit！” said Scrooge，shuddering from head to foot. “ I see，I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way now. Merciful Heaven，what is this！”
He recoiled in terror，for the scene had changed，and now he almost touched a bed—a bare，uncurtained bed—on which，beneath a ragged sheet，there lay a something covered up，which though it was dumb，announced itself in awful language. The room was very dark，too dark to be observed with any accuracy，though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse，anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale light，rising in the outer air，fell straight upon the bed；and on it，plundered and bereft，unwatched，unwept，uncared for，was the body of this man.
Scrooge glanced towards the phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of it，the motion of a finger upon Scrooge’s part，would have disclosed the face. He thought of it，felt how easy it would be to do，and longed to do it；but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the spectre at his side.
Oh，cold，cold，rigid，dreadful Death，set up thine altar here，and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command；for this is thy dominion！But of the loved，revered，and honoured head，thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes，or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy，and will fall down when released；it is not that the heart and pulse are still；but that the hand was open，generous，and true；the heart brave，warm，and tender；and the pulse a man’s. Strike，Shadow，strike And see his good deeds springing from the wound，to sow the world with life immortal！
No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge，s ears，and yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought，if this man could be raised up now，what would be his foremost thoughts ？ Avarice，hard-dealing，griping cares ？ They have brought him to a rich end，truly！
He lay，in the dark，empty house，with not a man，a woman，or a child，to say，“ he was kind to me in this or that，and for the memory of one kind word I will be kind to him.” A cat was tearing at the door，and there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What <i>they</i> wanted in the room of death，and why they were so restless and disturbed，Scrooge did not dare to think.
“ Spirit！” he said，“ this is a fearful place. In leaving it，I shall not leave its lesson，trust me. Let us go！”
Still the ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.
“ I understand you，” Scrooge returned，“ and I would do it，if I could. But I have not the power，spirit. I have not the power.”
Again it seemed to look at him.
“If there is any person in the town who feels emotion caused by this man’s death，” said Scrooge，quite agonised，“ show that person to me，spirit，I beseech you！”
The phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment，like a wing；and withdrawing it，revealed a room by daylight，where a mother and her children were.
She was expecting some one，and with anxious eagerness；for she walked up and down the room；started at every sound；looked out from the window；glanced at the clock；tried，but in vain，to work with her needle；and could hardly bear the voices of the children in their play.
At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door，and met her husband；a man whose face was careworn and depressed，though he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now；a kind of serious delight of which he felt ashamed，and which he struggled to repress.
He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by the fire；and when she asked him faintly what news （which was not until after a long silence），he appeared embarrassed how to answer.
“ Is it good，” she said，“ or bad ？ ”—to help him.
“ Bad，” he answered.
“ We are quite ruined ？ ”
“ No. There is hope yet，Caroline.”
“ If <i>he</i> relents，” she said，amazed，“ there is. Nothing is past hope，if such a miracle has happened.”
“ He is past relenting，” said her husband. “ He is dead.”
She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth；but she was thankful in her soul to hear it，and she said so，with clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next moment，and was sorry；but the first was the emotion of her heart.
“ What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night，said to me，when I tried to see him and obtain a week’s delay，and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid me，turns out to have been quite true. He was not only very ill，but dying，then.”
“ To whom will our debt be transferred ？ ”
“ I don’t know. But before that time we shall be ready with the money；and even though we were not，it would be bad fortune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep to-night with light hearts，Caroline！”
Yes. Soften it as they would，their hearts were lighter. The children’s faces，hushed and clustered round to hear what they so little understood，were brighter；and it was a happier house for this man’s death！The only emotion that the ghost could show him，caused by the event，was one of pleasure.
“ Let me see some tenderness connected with a death，” said Scrooge；“ or that dark chamber，spirit，which we left just now，will be for ever present to me.”
The ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet；and as they went along，Scrooge looked here and there to find himself，but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bob Cratchit’s house—the dwelling he had visited before—and found the mother and the children seated round the fire.
Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues in one corner，and sat looking up at Peter，who had a book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they were very quiet！
“‘And He took a child，and set him in the midst of them.’ ”
Where had Scrooge heard those words ？ He had not dreamed them. The boy must have read them out，as he and the spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he not go on ？
The mother laid her work upon the table，and put her hand up to her face.
“ The colour hurts my eyes，” she said.
The colour ？ Ah，poor Tiny Tim！
“ They’re better now again，” said Cratchit’s wife. “ It makes them weak by candle-light；and I wouldn’t show weak eyes to your father when be comes home，for the world. It must be near his time.”
“ Past it rather，” Peter answered，shutting up his book. “ But I think he has walked a little slower than he used，these few last evenings，mother.”
They were very quiet again. At last she said，and in a steady，cheerful voice，that only faltered once—
“ I have known him walk with—I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder，very fast indeed.
“ And so have I，” cried Peter. “ Often.”
“And so have I，” exclaimed another. So had all.
“ But he was very light to carry，” she resumed，intent upon her work，“ and his father loved him so，that it was no trouble；no trouble. And there is your father at the door！”
She hurried out to meet him；and little Bob in his comforter—he had need of it，poor fellow— came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob，and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees and laid，each child a little cheek，against his face，as if they said，“ Don’t mind it，father. Don’t be grieved！”
Bob was very cheerful with them，and spoke pleasantly to all the family. He looked at the work upon the table，and praised the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They would be done long before Sunday，he said.
“Sunday！You went to-day，then，Robert？” said his wife.
“Yes，my dear，” returned Bob. “I wish you could have gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you’ll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday. My little，little child！” cried Bob. “ My little child！”
He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it. If he could have helped it，he and his child would have been farther apart，perhaps，than they were.
He left the room，and went upstairs into the room above，which was lighted cheerfully，and hung with Christmas. There was a chair set close beside the child，and there were signs of some one having been there lately. Poor Bob sat down in it，and when he had thought a little and composed himself，he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened，and went down again quite happy.
They drew about the fire，and talked；the girls and mother working still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr. Scrooge’s nephew，whom he had scarcely seen but once，and who，meeting him in the street that day，and seeing that he looked a little—“just a little down，you know，” said Bob，inquired what had happened to distress him. “ On which，” said Bob，“ for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard，I told him. ‘ I am heartily sorry for it，Mr. Cratchit，’ he said，‘ and heartily sorry for your good wife.’ By the bye，how he ever knew <i>that</i> I don’t know.”
“ Knew what，my dear ？ ”
“Why，that you were a good wife，” replied Bob.
“ Everybody knows that！” said Peter.
“ Very well observed，my boy！” cried Bob. “ I hope they do. ‘ Heartily sorry，’ he said，‘ for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in any way，’ he said，giving me his card，‘ that’s where I live. Pray come to me.’ Now，it wasn&#39;t，” cried Bob，“ for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us，so much as for his kind way，that this was quite delightful. It really seemed as if he . had known our Tiny Tim，and felt with us.”
“ I’m sure he’s a good soul！” said Mrs. Cratchit.
“ You would be surer of it，my dear，” returned Bob，“ if you saw and spoke to him. I shouldn’t be at all surprised—mark what I say！—if he got Peter a better situation.”
“ Only hear that，Peter，” said Mrs. Cratchit.
“ And then，”cried one of the girls，“ Peter will be keeping company with some one，and setting up for himself.”
“ Get along with you！” retorted Peter，grinning.
“ It’s just as likely as not，” said Bob，“ one of these days；though there’s plenty of time for that，my dear. But however and whenever we part from one another，I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim—shall we—or this first parting that there was among us ？ ”
“ Never，father！” cried they all.
“ And I know，” said Bob，“ I know，my dears that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was，although he was a little，little child，we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves，and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it.”
“No，never，father！” they all cried again.
“ I am very happy，” said little Bob，“ I am very happy！”
Mrs. Cratchit kissed him，his daughters kissed him，the two young Cratchits kissed him，and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny Tim，thy childish essence was from God！
“ Spectre，” said Scrooge，“ something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it，but I know not how. Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead ？”
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come conveyed him，as before—though at a different time，he thought：indeed，there seemed no order in these latter visions，save that they were in the future— into the resorts of business men，but showed him not himself. Indeed，the spirit did not stay for anything，but went straight on，as to the end just now desired，until besought by Scrooge to tarry for a moment.
“ This court，” said Scrooge，“ through which we hurry now，is where my place of occupation is，and has been for a length of time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be，in days to come！”
The spirit stopped；the hand was pointed elsewhere.
“ The house is yonder，” Scrooge exclaimed. “ Why do you point away ？ ”
The inexorable finger underwent no change.
Scrooge hastened to the window of his office，and looked in. It was an office still，but not his. The furniture was not the same，and the figure in the chair was not himself. The phantom pointed as before.
He joined it once again，and wondering why and whither he had gone，accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering.
A churchyard. Here，then，the wretched man whose name he had now to learn lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by houses；overrun by grass and weeds，the growth of vegetation’s death，not life；choked up with too much burying；fat with repleted appetite. A worthy place！
The spirit stood among the graves，and pointed down to one. He advanced towards it，trembling. The phantom was exactly as it had been，but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.
“ Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point，” said Scrooge，“ answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that will be，or are they the shadows of the things that may be，only ？ ”
Still the ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.
“ Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends，to which，if persevered in，they must lead，” said Scrooge. “ But if the courses be departed from，the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me！”
The spirit was immovable as ever.
Scrooge crept towards it，trembling as he went；and following the finger，read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name，Ebenezer Scrooge.
“ Am <i>I</i> that man who lay upon the bed ？” he cried，upon his knees.
The finger pointed from the grave to him，and back again.
“ No，spirit！Oh，no，no！”
The finger still was there.
“ Spirit！” he cried，tight clutching at its robe. “ hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this，if I am past all hope？”
For the first time the hand appeared to shake.
“ Good spirit，” he pursued，as down upon the ground he fell before it，“your nature intercedes for me，and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me，by an altered life！”
The kind hand trembled.
“ I will honour Christmas in my heart，and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the past，the present，and the future. The spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh，tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone！”
In his agony，he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself，but he was strong in his en-treaty，and detained it. The spirit，stronger yet，repulsed him.
Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate reversed，he saw an alteration in the phantom’s hood and dress. It shrank，collapsed，and dwindled down into a bedpost.

Stave Five
THE END OF IT
Yes！and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own，the room was his own. Best and happiest of all，the time before him was his own，to make amends in！
“I will live in the past，the present，and the future！” Scrooge repeated，as he scrambled out of bed. “ The spirits of all three shall strive within me. O Jacob Marley！Heaven，and the Christmas time be praised for this！I say it on my knees，old Jacob；on my knees！”
He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions，that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the spirit，and his face was wet with tears.
“ They are not torn down，” cried Scrooge，folding one of his bed-curtains in his arms，“they are not torn down，rings and all. They are here—I am here—the shadows of the things that would have been，may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will！”
His hands were busy with his garments all this time；turning them inside out，putting them on upside down，tearing them，mislaying them，making them parties to every kind of extravagance.
“ I don’t know what to do！” cried Scrooge，laughing and crying in the same breath，and making a perfect Laoco?n of himself with his stockings. I am as light as a feather，I am as happy as an angel，I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to everybody！A Happy New Year to all the world. Hollo，here！Whoop！Hollo！
He had frisked into the sitting-room，and was now standing there perfectly winded.
“ There’s the saucepan that the gruel was in！” cried Scrooge，starting off again，and going round the fireplace. “There’s the door，by which the ghost of Jacob Marley entered！There’s the corner where the ghost of Christmas Present sat！There’s the window where I saw the wandering spirits！It’s all right，it’s all true，it all happened. Ha，ha，ha！”
Really，for a man who had been out of practice for so many years，it was a splendid laugh，a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long，long line of brilliant laughs！
“ I don’t know what day of the month it is！” said Scrooge. “ I don’t know how long I’ve been among the spirits. I don’t know anything. I’m quite a baby. Never mind. I don’t care. I’d rather be a baby. Hollo！Whoop！Hollo，here！”
He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash，clang，hammer；ding，dong，bell. Bell，dong，ding；hammer，clang，clash！Oh，glorious，glorious！
Running to the window，he opened it，and put out his head. No fog，no mist；clear，bright，jovial，stirring，cold；cold，piping for the blood to dance to；golden sunlight；heavenly sky；sweet fresh air；merry bells. Oh，glorious. Glorious！
“ What’s to-day ？ ” cried Scrooge，calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes，who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.
“ Eh ？ ” returned the boy，with all his might of wonder.
“ What’s to-day，my fine fellow ？ ” said Scrooge.
“ To-day！” replied the boy. “ Why，Christmas Day，
“ It’s Christmas Day！” said Scrooge to himself. “ I haven’t missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can. Hollo，my fine fellow！”
“ Hollo！” returned the boy.
“ Do you know the poulterer’s in the next street but one，at the corner ？ ” Scrooge inquired.
“ I should hope I did，” replied the lad.
“ An intelligent boy！” said Scrooge. “ A remarkable boy！Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there ？ —Not the little prize turkey：the big one ？ ”
“ What，the one as big as me ？ ” returned the boy.
“ What a delightful boy！” said Scrooge. “ It’s a pleasure to talk to him. Yes，my buck！”
“ It’s hanging there now，” replied the boy.
“ Is it ？ ” said Scrooge. “ Go and buy it.”
“ Walk-ER！” exclaimed the boy.
“No，no，” said Scrooge，“ I am in earnest. Go and buy it，and tell ’em to bring it here，that I may give them the direction where to take it Come back with the man，and I’ll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes，and I’ll give you half a crown！”
The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast.
“ I’ll send it to Bob Cratchit’s！” whispered Scrooge，rubbing his hands，and splitting with a laugh. “ He shan’t know who sends it It’s twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never made such a joke as sending it to Bob’s will be！”
The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one，but write it he did，somehow，and went downstairs to open the street door，ready for the coming of the poulterers man. As he stood there，waiting his arrival，the knocker caught his eye.
“ I shall love it，as long as I live！” cried Scrooge，patting it with his hand. “ I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face. It’s a wonderful knocker. Here’s the turkey. Hollo！Whoop！How are you ？ Merry Christmas！”
It <i>was</i> a turkey！He never could have stood upon his legs，that bird. He would have snapped ’em short off in a minute，like sticks of sealing-wax.
“ Why，it’s impossible to carry that to Camden Town，” said Scrooge. “ You must have a cab.” The chuckle with which he said this，and the chuckle with which he paid for the turkey，and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab，and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy，were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again，and chuckled till he cried.
   
Shaving was not an easy task，for his hand continued to shake very much；and shaving re-quires attention，even when you don’t dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off，he would have put a piece of sticking-plaster over it，and been quite satisfied.
He dressed himself “ all in his best，” and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth，as he had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present；and walking with his hands behind him，Scrooge regarded every one with a delightful smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant，in a word，that three or four good-humoured fellows said，“ Good-morning，sir. A Merry Christmas to you！” And Scrooge said often afterwards，that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard，those were the blithest in his ears.
He had not gone far，when coming on towards him he beheld the portly gentleman who had walked into his counting-house the day before and said，“ Scrooge and Mariey’s，I believe ？” It sent a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met；but he knew what path lay straight before him，and he took it.
“ My dear sir，” said Scrooge，quickening his pace，and taking the old gentleman by both his hands. “ How do you do？ I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry Christmas to you，sir！”
“ Mr. Scrooge ？ ”
“Yes，” said Scrooge. “That is my name，and I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness—” here Scrooge whispered in his ear.
“ Lord bless me！” cried the gentleman，as if his breath were taken away. “ My dear Mr. Scrooge，are you serious ？ ”
“ If you please，” said Scrooge. “ Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it，I assure you. Will you do me that favour ？ ”
“ My dear sir，” said the other，shaking hands with him. “ I don’t know what to say to such munifi—
“ Don’t say anything，please，” retorted Scrooge. “ Come and see me. Will you come and see me ？ ” “ I will！” cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.
“ Thankee，said Scrooge. “ I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you！”
   
He went to church，and walked about the streets，and watched the people hurrying to and fro，and patted children on the head，and questioned beggars，and looked down into the kitchens of houses，and up to the windows；and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk—that anything— could give him so much happiness. In the after-noon，he turned his steps towards his nephew’s house.
He passed the door a dozen times，before he had the courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash，and did it，
“ Is your master at home，my dear ？ ” said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl！Very.
“Yes，sir.”
“ Where is he，my love ？ ” said Scrooge.
“ He’s in the dining-room，sir，along with mistress. I’ll show you upstairs，if you please.”
“ Thank’ee. He knows me，” said Scrooge，with his hand already on the dining-room lock. “ I’ll go in here，my dear.”
He turned it gently，and sidled his face in，round the door. They were looking at the table （which was spread out in great array）；for these young housekeepers are always nervous on such points，and like to see that everything is right.
“ Fred！” said Scrooge.
Dear heart alive，how his niece by marriage started！Scrooge had forgotten，for the moment，about her sitting in the corner with the footstool，or he wouldn’t have done it，on any account.
Why，bless my soul！” cried Fred，“who’s that？”
“It’s I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in，Fred ？ ”
Let him in！It is a mercy he didn’t shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when <i>he</i> came. So did the plump sister when <i>she</i> came. So did every one when <i>they</i> came. Wonderful party，wonderful games，wonderful unanimity，won-der-ful happiness！
But he was early at the office next morning. Oh，he was early there. If he could only be there first，and catch Bob Cratchit coming late！That was the thing he had set his heart upon.
And he did it；yes，he did！The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open，that he might see him come into the tank.
His hat was off before he opened the door；his comforter too. He was on his stool in a jiffy；driving away with his pen，as if he were trying to overtake nine o’clock.
“ Hollo！” growled Scrooge，in his accustomed voice，as near as he could feign it. “ What do you mean by coming here at this time of day ？ ”
“ I am very sorry，sir，” said Bob. “ I <i>am</i> behind my time.”
“ You are ？ ” repeated Scrooge. “ Yes. I think you are. Step this way，sir，if you please.”
“It’s only once a year，sir，” pleaded Bob，appearing from the tank. “ It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday，sir.”
“ Now，I’ll tell you what，my friend，” said Scrooge；“ I am not going to stand this sort of tiling any longer. And therefore，” he continued，leaping from his stool，and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the tank again—“and therefore I am about to raise your salary！”
Bob trembled，and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it，holding him，and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait waistcoat.
“A Merry Christmas，Bob！” said Scrooge，with an earnestness that could not be mistaken，as he clapped him on the back，“ A merrier Christmas，Bob，my good fellow，than I have given you for many a year. I’ll raise your salary，and endeavour to assist your struggling family，and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon，over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop，Bob！Make up the fires，and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i，Bob Cratchit！”
   
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all，and infinitely more；and to Tiny Tim，who did not die，he was a second father. He became as good a friend，as good a master，and as good a man，as the good old city knew，or any other good old city，town，or borough，in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him，but he let them laugh，and little heeded them；for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe for good，at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset；and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway，he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins，as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed；and that was quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with spirits，but lived upon the total abstinence principle，ever afterwards；and it was always said of him，that he knew how to keep Christmas well，if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us，and all of us！And so，as Tiny Tim observed，God bless us every one！
 
<i>Printed in Great Britain by Hazell，Watson & Viney，Ld.，London and Aylesbury.</i>

编后记
作为大文豪狄更斯迄今流传最广的作品，《圣诞颂歌》不但在初版时风头无两，而且成为西方现代圣诞节的文化滥觞和精神源头。正是这则貌不惊人的小故事，使得这个原先只具有宗教意义的节日被赋予了温暖、向善、欢快且富于魔力的世俗色彩，深刻地改变了圣诞节在西方的地位和与其相关的社会生活。时至今日，《圣诞颂歌》中可供开掘的历史文化内涵已经超越了它的文学价值，重新审视这部在西方历久不衰的名著因而也就有了崭新的意义。为了全面呈现《圣诞颂歌》的历史风貌，我们不仅收入这部小说的双语全本（坊间流传的大多是其节本或改写版本），而且配有详尽的反映时代细节的注释。此外，从大量与《圣诞颂歌》相关的美术作品中，我们精心遴选了两套近三十幅绘制于十九世纪末、二十世纪初的绝版插图，与狄翁古意盎然的妙文相得益彰。中文部分所配的插图，系由插画家弗雷德里克·辛普森·科本（Frederick Simpson Coburn）绘制，而英文部分的插图则由A.C.迈克尔（A.C.Michael）绘制。
编者
二〇〇九年十二月




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