The ghost of christmas past . . .
Thank you for being the ghost dearest Ashlynn Jameson!
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`I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.'
`Long Past?' inquired miss Scrooge: observant of its dwarfish stature.
`No. Your past.'
Miss Scrooge inquired what business brought the spirit to her.
`Your welfare.' said the Ghost.
Miss Scrooge expressed herself 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 her thinking, for it said immediately:
`Your reclamation, then. Take heed.'
It put out its hand as it spoke, and clasped her gently by the arm.
`Rise. and walk with me.'
It would have been in vain for miss 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 she was clad but lightly in her slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that she had a cold upon her at that time. The grasp, though gentle, was not to be resisted. She rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped her robe in supplication.
`I am mortal,' miss Scrooge remonstrated, `and liable to fall.'
`Bear but a touch of my hand there,' said the Spirit, laying it upon her heart,' and you shall be upheld in more than this.'
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, 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 miss Scrooge, `I was bred in this place. I was a girl here.'
The Spirit gazed upon her mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old woman's sense of feeling. She 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.'
Miss Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in her voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead her where she would.
`You recollect the way.' inquired the Spirit.
`Remember it.' cried miss 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, miss Scrooge recognizing 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 and girls upon their backs, who called to other boys and girls in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys and girls 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, miss Scrooge knew and named them every one. Why was she rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them? Why did her cold eye glisten, and her heart leap up as they went past. Why was she filled with gladness when she heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several homes. What was merry Christmas to miss Scrooge? What good had it ever done to her?
`The school is not quite deserted,' said the Ghost. `A solitary child, neglected by her friends and family, is left there still.'
Miss Scrooge said she knew it. And she sobbed.
They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-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 over-run 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 chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candle-light, and not too much to eat.
They went, the Ghost and miss 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. There stood a lonely girl weeping next to a window. Miss Scrooge stood next to the spirit, and wept as well to see her poor forgotten self as she used to be.
Taking pity on her former self she said `Poor girl' and she cried again.
`I wish,' miss Scrooge muttered and looking about her, after drying her eyes with her sleeve: `but it's too late now.'
`What is the matter?' asked the Spirit.
`Nothing,' said miss Scrooge. `Nothing. There were some boys and girls singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given them something but instead I chased them away'
The ghost of christmas past . . .
Thank you for being the ghost dearest Ashlynn Jameson!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
`I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.'
`Long Past?' inquired miss Scrooge: observant of its dwarfish stature.
`No. Your past.'
Miss Scrooge inquired what business brought the spirit to her.
`Your welfare.' said the Ghost.
Miss Scrooge expressed herself 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 her thinking, for it said immediately:
`Your reclamation, then. Take heed.'
It put out its hand as it spoke, and clasped her gently by the arm.
`Rise. and walk with me.'
It would have been in vain for miss 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 she was clad but lightly in her slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that she had a cold upon her at that time. The grasp, though gentle, was not to be resisted. She rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped her robe in supplication.
`I am mortal,' miss Scrooge remonstrated, `and liable to fall.'
`Bear but a touch of my hand there,' said the Spirit, laying it upon her heart,' and you shall be upheld in more than this.'
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, 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 miss Scrooge, `I was bred in this place. I was a girl here.'
The Spirit gazed upon her mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old woman's sense of feeling. She 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.'
Miss Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in her voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead her where she would.
`You recollect the way.' inquired the Spirit.
`Remember it.' cried miss 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, miss Scrooge recognizing 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 and girls upon their backs, who called to other boys and girls in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys and girls 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, miss Scrooge knew and named them every one. Why was she rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them? Why did her cold eye glisten, and her heart leap up as they went past. Why was she filled with gladness when she heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several homes. What was merry Christmas to miss Scrooge? What good had it ever done to her?
`The school is not quite deserted,' said the Ghost. `A solitary child, neglected by her friends and family, is left there still.'
Miss Scrooge said she knew it. And she sobbed.
They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-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 over-run 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 chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candle-light, and not too much to eat.
They went, the Ghost and miss 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. There stood a lonely girl weeping next to a window. Miss Scrooge stood next to the spirit, and wept as well to see her poor forgotten self as she used to be.
Taking pity on her former self she said `Poor girl' and she cried again.
`I wish,' miss Scrooge muttered and looking about her, after drying her eyes with her sleeve: `but it's too late now.'
`What is the matter?' asked the Spirit.
`Nothing,' said miss Scrooge. `Nothing. There were some boys and girls singing a Christmas Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given them something but instead I chased them away'