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!
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 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 whole scene vanished instantly 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
snowstorms.

Perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing 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.

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a
twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a
goodly show; 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 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.

"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, m