A Christmas Carol
A Christmas Carol
A Christmas Carol
By Charles Dickens
December, 1843.
Y es! 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. Oh 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 inten-
tions, 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 ev-ery
kind of extravagance.
‘I don’t know what to do.’ cried Scrooge, laughing and
crying in the same breath; and making a perfect Laocoon of
himself with his stockings. ‘I am as light as a feather, I am