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  • Good evening and welcome to the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library-Museum. My name is Tom

  • Schwartz, I'm the Director. And tonight you're invited to sit back, relax, andenjoy a great

  • holiday favorite, Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol."

  • Charles Dickens actually created this piece for readers theater, which is what you'll

  • hear tonight. Readers theater has very few props. It's not acting per se, but it's just

  • using the voice in order to create a sense of the character.

  • Given this holiday season is a time for family and friends to reconnect to old memories and

  • create new ones. We know that Christmas Past is a great tradition in this town, and we

  • hope that this will become a new addition to that.

  • We also know that this is a time to think of others less fortunate. And we provide a

  • box out front for collecting can goods for those in need. There will be opportunities

  • for those of you coming tomorrow for other actvities that will bring an end to this weekend

  • of celebration.

  • so, if you'll turn off your cell phones, we'd appreciate that. And we'd also like to welcome

  • you afterwards, if you'd like to meet the cast and enjoy some treats we have some in

  • the reading room. Those of you who don't plan to do that, the Library will be closing around

  • 8 o'clock.

  • So please, sit back, welcome, thank you for coming, and enjoy.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name however. There it yet 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 at the grind-stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping,

  • scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!

  • External heat and cold had little influence on him. No warmth could warm, no cold could

  • 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 his

  • 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 foggy weather. And the city clocks

  • had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already.

  • 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 a strong imagination, he failed.

  • "A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!"

  • "Bah! Humbug!"

  • "Christmas a humbug, uncle! You don't mean that, I am sure?

  • I do. 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, but 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 had my will 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.

  • "Oh Nephew! Keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

  • "Keep it! But you don't keep it."

  • "Let me leave it alone, then. "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. "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 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, 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-travelers 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 has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

  • "Let me hear another sound from you Bob Cratchitt, and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your

  • situation! Nephew, you're quite a powerful speaker, sir," I wonder you don't go into

  • Parliament."

  • "Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow."

  • "Good afternoon,"

  • "I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. But 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! And A Happy New Year!

  • "Good afternoon!"

  • His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. The clerk, in letting

  • Scroges's newpew out had let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to

  • behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They had books and papers

  • in their hands, and bowed to him.

  • "Scrooge and Marley's, I believe. Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge, or Mr.

  • Marley?"

  • "Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years. "He died seven years ago, this very night."

  • "At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, 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 necessities; hundreds

  • of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir."

  • "Are there no prisons?"

  • "Plenty of prisons. But under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer

  • of mind or body to the unauthentic multitude, 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!"

  • "You wish to remain anonymous?"

  • "I wish to be left alone, 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 prisons and the work houses--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, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

  • 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 tomorrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge.

  • "If quite convenient, sir."

  • "It is not convenient,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?"

  • "Yes sir."

  • "And yet, you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work."

  • "It's only once a year, sir."

  • "A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December! 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.

  • Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and having read all

  • the newspapers, 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. The building

  • was old enough now, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other

  • rooms being all let out as offices.

  • Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the

  • door of hsi house, except that it was very large. Also 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. And yet , 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's face, with a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was

  • not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostly

  • spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead.

  • As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.

  • To 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 said "Pooh, pooh!" and closed the door 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, walked across

  • the hall, and up the stairs; slowly too: trimming his candle as he went.

  • Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for its being very dark. Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge

  • liked that. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through his rooms

  • to see that all was all 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 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 nightcap; and sat down before the very low fire to take his gruel.

  • As he threw his head bak 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 story 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.

  • [Bell ringing]

  • Soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house.

  • [Bells ringing]

  • And that was succeeded by a clanking noise.

  • [Clanking noise]

  • Deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the

  • wine-merchant's cellar.

  • [Clanking noise]

  • He heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming

  • straight towards the door.

  • [Clanking noise]

  • It came on through the heavy door, and a spectre 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!"

  • The same face: the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots.

  • His body was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat,

  • could see the two buttons on his coat behind.

  • 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 noticed the very

  • texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, he was still incredulous.

  • "How now! What do you want with me?"

  • "Much!"

  • "Who are you?"

  • "Ask me who I was."

  • "Who were you then?"

  • "In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley. You don't believe in me."

  • "I don't,"

  • "What evidence would you have of my reality beyond your senses?"

  • "Because, 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, he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his

  • own attention, and keeping down his horror.

  • 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!

  • "Mercy! Oh dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me? Why do spirits walk the earth,

  • and why do they come to me?"

  • "It is required of every man,that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen,

  • and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to

  • do so after death.

  • "I cannont tell you all. 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!"

  • "But you were always a good man of business."

  • "Business! 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 ocean of my business! Hear me! My time is nearly gone."

  • "I will. But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery, Jacob! Pray!"

  • "I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my

  • fate."

  • "You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge. "Thank'ee!"

  • "You will be haunted by Three Spirits."

  • "Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob? I--I think I'd rather not,"

  • [Marley's ghost moans]

  • "Without their visits, you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first to-morrow,

  • when the bell tolls One."

  • "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 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. Until suddenly the church

  • tolled, clock tolled a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy one.

  • [chime]

  • Light flashed up in the room upon the instant. And the curtains of his bed were drawn aside

  • by, 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. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its

  • hand; 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

  • sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible.

  • "Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?"

  • "I am!"

  • "Who, and what are you?"

  • "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

  • "Long Past?"

  • "No. Your past. The things that you will see with me are shadows of the things that have

  • been. They have no consciousnes of us. 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.

  • 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 his robe in supplication.

  • "I am a mortal, and liable to fall."

  • "Bear but a touch of my hand there, and you shall be upheld in more than this!"

  • As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood on the busy thoroughfares

  • of the city. It was made plain enough by the dressing of the shops that here too it was

  • Christmas time.

  • The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrooge if he knew it.

  • "Know it! I Was apprenticed here!"

  • They went in. At sight of an old man 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! Oh 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; laughing all over

  • himself, from his shoes to the organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich,

  • fat, jovial voice:

  • "Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"

  • A living -a moving picture of Scrooge's former self, a young man came briskly in accompanied

  • by his fellow 'pprentice.

  • "Dick Wilkins, to be sure! My old fellow 'pprentice. Bless me, yes. There he is. Oh he was very

  • much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!"

  • "Yo ho, my boys! No more work tonight. Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have

  • the shutters up, before a man can say Jack Robinson! Clear away my lads and let's have

  • lots of room here!"

  • 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 ball-room, 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 Miss Fezziwigs, 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 they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some

  • awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they

  • all went, twenty couples 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.

  • 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 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 would dance, and

  • had no notion of walking.

  • 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

  • individually 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.

  • "A small matter," said the Ghost, "to make these silly folks so full of gratitude."

  • 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, 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."

  • "What is the matter?"

  • "Nothing particular."

  • "Something, I think?"

  • "No. No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That's all."

  • "My time grows short. Quick!"

  • This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an

  • immediate effect. For again he saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life.

  • He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a black dress: in whose

  • eyes there were tears.

  • "It matters little to you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can 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?"

  • "A golden one. "You fear the world too much. Ihave seen your aspirations fall off one by

  • one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"

  • "What then? Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you. Have

  • I ever sought release from our engaement?"

  • "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.If you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe

  • that you would choose a dowerless girl? Or choosing her 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."

  • "Spirit! Remove me from this place!"

  • "I told you these were shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are,

  • do not blame me!"

  • "Remove me! I cannot bear it! Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!"

  • As he struggled with the spirit, he was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible

  • drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom. He had barely time to reel to

  • bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.

  • Scrooge awoke in his bedroom. , there was no doubt about that. But it, and his own adjoinng

  • sitting room into which he shuffled in his slippers attracted by a great light there

  • had undergone a surpising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living

  • green, that it looked a perfect grove. The leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected

  • back the light, as if many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty

  • blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that petrification of a hearth had never known

  • in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped upon

  • the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, great joints of meat,

  • sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot

  • chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and

  • great bowls of punch. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a Giant, glorious to see;

  • who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and who raised it high, to

  • shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping around the door.

  • "Come in! Come in! and know me better, man! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

  • "Look upon me! You have never seen the like of me before!"

  • "Never. I don't think I have. I am afraid I have not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?"

  • "More than eighteen hundred,"

  • "A tremendous family to provide for! Spirit, conduct me where you will. I went forth last

  • night on compulsion, and I learnt 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. The room and its contents all vanished instantly

  • and they stood in the city streets upon a snowy Christmas morning. Scrooge and the ghost

  • passed on invisible stright to Scrooge's clerk's and on the threshhold of the door, the spirit

  • smiled and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit's dwelling with the sprinkilings of his torch.

  • Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown,

  • 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, confirmed 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 smelt 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.

  • "And how did little Tim behave?"

  • "As good as gold, and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself 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, which when they soon returned in high procession.

  • 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 apple-sauce;

  • 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, 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 in.

  • Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should

  • break in turning out!

  • Hallo! 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!" 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 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. 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 shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit

  • family drew around the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle; 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.

  • "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"

  • "God bless us every one!"

  • "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.

  • "Mr. Scrooge! I give you Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!"

  • "The Founder of the Feast indeed! I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind

  • to feed upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it."

  • "My dear, the children! Christmas Day."

  • "It should be Christmas Day, I am sure, 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, Christmas Day."

  • "I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's, 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 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. At this time the chestnuts and the jug went round

  • and round; and bye 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 water-proof; their clothes were scanty;

  • and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. 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.

  • It was a great surprise to Scrooge as this scene vanished. 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.

  • 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, Scrooge's niece, by marriage,

  • laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, laughed

  • out lustily.

  • "He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live! He believed it too!"

  • "More shame for him, Fred!"

  • 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, 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."

  • 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."

  • "Oh! Indeed, I think he loses a very fine dinner."

  • 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.

  • After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were

  • about, when they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you.

  • 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.

  • There was a new game> 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 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 a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At

  • every new 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!

  • "Oh oh oh! I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!"

  • "What is it?"

  • "It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"

  • Which it certainly was. Admiration was the sentiment, though some objected that the reply

  • to "Is it a bear?" ought to have been "Yes!"

  • Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he would have

  • pledged the unconscious company in an inaudible speech. 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 almshouses, 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.

  • Suddenly, as they stood together in an open place, the bell struck twelve.

  • [12 chimes]

  • Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it no more. 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.

  • 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. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither

  • spoke nor moved.

  • "I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come? Ghost of the Future! 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 hear 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! Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead

  • on, Spirit!"

  • They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to spring up about

  • them. But there they were, in the heart of it. 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, I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead."

  • "When did he die?"

  • "Last night, I believe."

  • "Why, what was the matter with him? I thought he'd never die."

  • "God knows."

  • "What has he done with his money?"

  • "I haven't heard. Company, perhaps. He, he hasn't left it to me. That's all I know. Bye

  • bye."

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • They left this busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town, to a low shop where

  • iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal, were bought. A grey-haired rascal,

  • of great age sat smoking his pipe.

  • 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.

  • 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! Let the laundress alone to be the second;

  • and let the undertaker's 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. What have you got to sell?"

  • "Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did."

  • "Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose."

  • "No, indeed! If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked old screw, 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. It's a judgment on him."

  • "I wish it was a little heavier judgment. 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.

  • Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening the bundle, and dragged

  • out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff.

  • "What do you call this? Bed-curtains!"

  • "Ah! Bed-curtains! Don't drop that oil upon the blankets, now."

  • "His blankets?" asked Joe.

  • "Whose else's do you think? It likely to take cold without 'em, I dare say. 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

  • by dressing him up in it, if it hadn't been for me."

  • Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror.

  • "Spirit! 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!"

  • The scene had changed, and now he almost touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed. A pale light,

  • rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and on it, unwatched, unwept, uncared

  • for, was the body of this plundered unknown man.

  • "Spirit! Let me see some tenderness connected with a death, or this dark chamber will be

  • for ever present to me."

  • The Ghost conducted him to poor Bob Cratchit's house; the dwelling he had visited before;

  • and found the mother and the children seated by 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 needlework. 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. It makes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak

  • eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time."

  • "Past it rather. But I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these few last

  • evenings, mother."

  • "I have known him walk with--I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder,

  • very fast indeed."

  • "And so have I, often. But he was very light to carry. Father loved him so, that it was

  • no trouble: no trouble. And there's 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 knee 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?"

  • "Yes, my dear. 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!"

  • "Spectre, something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not

  • how. Tell me what man that was with the covered face whom we saw lying dead?"

  • The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, to a dismal, wretched churchyard.

  • The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One.

  • "Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question. Are these

  • the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of 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.

  • "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 that man who lay upon the bed? No, Spirit! Oh no, no! Spirit! 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! Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you

  • have shown me, by an altered life! 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!"

  • 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 shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.

  • 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!

  • He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever

  • heard. Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; no

  • night; clear, bright, stirring, golden day!

  • "What's to-day!"

  • "Today? Why, this is CHRISTMAS DAY."

  • "Ooo It's Christmas Day! I haven't missed it. Hallo, my fine fellow! Do you know the

  • Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?"

  • "I should hope I did."

  • "Oh! An intelligent boy! 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 the one as big as me?"

  • "What a delightful boy! It's a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck!"

  • "It's hanging there now."

  • "Is it? Go and buy it."

  • "Walk-ER!"

  • "Oh No, no, 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!

  • "I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's! He sha'n't know who sends it. It's twice the size of

  • Tiny Tim."

  • The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write it he did, somehow,

  • and went down-stairs to open the street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer's man.

  • It was 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.

  • Scrooge 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 delighted

  • 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, these were the blithest

  • in his ears.

  • In the afternoon 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?"

  • "Yes, sir."

  • "Where is he, my love?"

  • "He's in the dining-room, sir, with the mistress."

  • "He knows me. I'll go in here, my dear."

  • "Fred!"

  • "Why bless my soul!"

  • "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 home in five minutes.

  • Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he

  • came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when they 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! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. Bob 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.

  • Bob's 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.

  • "Hallo! What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"

  • "I am very sorry, sir. I am behind my time."

  • "You are? Yes. I think you are. Step this way, sir, if you please."

  • "It's only once a year, sir. It shall not be repeated. I was making rather

  • merry yesterday, sir."

  • "Now, I'll tell you what, my friend, I am not going to stand this sort of thing any

  • longer. And therefore, and therefore I am about to raise your salary! A merry Christmas,

  • Bob! Ha ha ha! 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 a second coal-scuttle before you dot

  • another i, Bob Cratchit! Ha ha ha!"

  • 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 his own heart laughed and that was quite enough for him.

  • 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!

  • [Applause]

Good evening and welcome to the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library-Museum. My name is Tom

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B1 中級

讀者劇場 "聖誕頌歌" (Readers Theater "A Christmas Carol")

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    Anbe2623 發佈於 2021 年 01 月 14 日
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