A Christmas Carol Manuscript

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The Morgan Library and Museum, MA 97. Photography by Graham S. Haber.

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54

upon the blankets.”

“His blankets?” asked Joe.

“Whose else’s do you think?” replied he 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 an’t so fond of his com¬pany, 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 been 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 an’t good enough for such a purpose, it isn’t good enough for anything. It’s quite as becom¬ing 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 detes¬tation 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 revealed 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 with¬draw the veil than to dismiss the Spectre at his side.

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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 honored 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 they 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 unmoving 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 upon him.

“If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man’s death,” said Scrooge quite agonized, “shew 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 care-worn 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,

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with (which was not until after a long silence) appeared embarrassed how to answer.

“Is it good,” she said, “or bad?”—to help him.

“Bad,” he answered.

Then wWe have are quite ruined.”

“No., he ????? cried There is hope yet, Caroline.”

“If he relents,” she cried 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 it was plain that she felt was thankful in her heart 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 they told me the half- the drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me, when I went tried to see him and obtain a week’s delay; and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid seeing 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, we should might hope it would be bad fortune indeed to find a more so merciful merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep tonight with light hearts, Caroline!”

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children’s faces hushed, and clustered round to listen hear what they so little understood, were brighter; and and it was a happier house for this man’s death! The only emotion, that that caused by the event that the Ghost could shew him, caused by the event, was one sentimentone 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 always for ever present to me.”

They glided Ghost went conducted him, through the many several and 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. He had [mingled with] They entered poor Bob Cratchet Past and Present Cratchit’s house—the same house dwelling he had visited before—and found the family mother and about the fire at work the children seated round the fire.

Very ???? Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as [mice] statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who was reading to them from had a Book before him. The mother and her daughters were busy with [her] making clothes engaged in sewing. But so surely they were very quiet!

“‘And He took a child, and set him in the midst of them’.” [n?delta?Where had Scrooge ha heard these words? He had not dreamed them. The boy The boy had must have read them out, surely, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold thresh-hold. [ Why did he not go on!

The [fire] hurts mother laid her work upon the table, z and put her hand up to her face.

The colour hurts hurts my eyes!? she said. The colour? Blac??. Poor

The colour? Black? Ah Poor Tiny Tim!

“They’re better now again”, said Cratchit’s wife. “It makes them

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weak sometimes by candle-light; and I wouldn’t shew weak eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time,.she added in a s?oo?t?? ??ro?? voice.

It’s full his time Past it, rather,” said Peter. But I think answered, shutting up his book. “But I think he’s had walked a little slower these [few] than he used, these few last evenings mother.”

They were very quiet again. The mother moved her [lips] t[acitly] more than out At last she said, and in a steady voice cheerful voice, as if she ?

that only faultered 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. “Many a time. Often!

“And so have I!” exclaimed another. So had th? all.

“But Tiny Tim he was very light to carry,” ? pursued Bob’s wife she resumed, intent upon her work, “??? and light his father loved him so, that if he had been[ heavier] it was no trouble—no trouble. And there is your father at the door!”

She hurried out to open meet him; and little Bob in his Comforter— he had need of it, poor fellow—[not] came in. His tea was ready for him Just ???? on the fender hob and they all tried who should help him to it soonest most. When Then the two young Cratchits, got up one upon each on his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, against his face, as if they said, as if they said “Don’t mind it “Don’t mind it, father. Don’t father be grieved!”

Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family. He looked at the clothes work upon the pa table, and praised their the industry and speed of Mrs Cratchit and her daughters the girls. They would be done long before Sunday, he said.

Did You go Sunday! You went t??? today then Robert?” said [M?] 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 [to] that it should be mythat I would [be] walk there on a Sunday walk. My little, little child!” cried Bob. ? ?i??ing ????ing all his “My little child!”

The poor fellow! Poor He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it. If he could have helped it, Bob he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were.

Bob Cratch He left the room, and went up stairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas too., and had There ?????th?? 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 took took the ??? hand in his and held it and kissed the little face little face. He was quite soon reconciled to it now what had happened, now. and after a time went down stairs down again quite happy.

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working all the time still. Bob told them of the wonderful extraordinary kindness goodness kindness of Mr Scrooge’s nephew, whom he had [seen] scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the street that day, and

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seeing that he looked a little—“just a [lit] little down, you know,” said Bob—enquired with so much kindness what had happened, that he 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, Robert Mr. Cratchit’ he said, ‘and heartily sorry for your good wife.’ However How By the bye, how he ever knew that, I [I was underlined, then the underline was crossed out] don’t know!”

“Knew what, my dear.”

“Why, that you were a good wife,” said replied Bob.

“Everybody knows that!” cried said Peter.

Well said Very well observed my boy!” cried Bob. “I hope they do.—‘Heartily sorry,’ he said, ‘for your good wife. If I can be[friend] of service to you in any way’ he said, giving me his card, ‘that’s where I live. Pray come to me. Now it [isn’t] wasn’t,” cried Bob, “for the sake of anything he might be able to do for me, but us, so much as for his kind way, that this was such a comfort you can’t think quite delightful. ????. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt along with us!”

“I’m sure he’s a good soul!” said Mrs Cratchit.

And you’d You would be surer of it, my dear,” returned Bob, “if you could saw and spoke to him. “I shouldn’t be at all surprised; mark what I say; if he got Peter a better situation.”

Peter brightene “Only hear that, Peter!” said Mrs Cratchit.

“And then,” said cried one of the girls, “Peter will be keeping company with someone, 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 [whenev] however and whenever we part from one another, I hope ??? hope that am sure [that] we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim—shall we—or this first parting that there was among us.”

“Never, father!”, said cried they all.

“And I hope know,” said [li little]Bob, “I know my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how good in everything our Tiny was how mild he good our Tiny ???? he was, though 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.

“Thank God[.]“I [We ???? ] am very [grateful ]happy,” said little Bob, “that we can be so I am very We are very I am very happy .” here tonight.

Mrs Cratchit kissed him, and his daughters kissed him, and the two young Cratchits kissed him, and and Peter and himself shook hands. They all shed one ???d ???? Spirit of [Oh the] ???? of Tiny Tim ????? of Tiny Tim ??t a ??fling triv? ???ghe was gone m??? Scrooge would have done thy little thy [tiny] ??? essence was from God! So to?? ght Spirit of ?? Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God! from God!

Spirit Spectre!” said Scrooge, “I feel Something tells informs me that our parting-moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Before [that ] that time arrives, Tell me what the what man it is it ??? is was that was, whom we saw lying dead! have seen afore ?? 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 this latter visions, save that they were in the Future) into the ??ly hou??s quarter part of ?o??gh?a?s he knew best, into the resorts resorts of men business men, but shewed him not himself. Indeed the Spirit [st] did not ?? stop until stay for anything, but went straight on as to

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