Best 11 what surprise does mr. cratchit have for his son peter

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what surprise does mr. cratchit have for his son peter

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A Christmas Carol: Stave 3 – English Literature – BC Open …

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  • Summary: Articles about A Christmas Carol: Stave 3 – English Literature – BC Open … ‘And how did little Tim behave? asked Mrs Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content.

  • Match the search results: ‘Man,’ said the Ghost, ‘if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than mill…

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Christmas dinner with the Cratchits | OUPblog

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  • Summary: Articles about Christmas dinner with the Cratchits | OUPblog Mrs Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss …

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Summary Stave 3 – A Christmas Carol – The Literature Network

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  • Summary: Articles about Summary Stave 3 – A Christmas Carol – The Literature Network The family reluctantly drinks a toast to Mr. Scrooge, his name dampening the joviality for a few moments. Bob Cratchit finally announces he has found a …

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    Scrooge opens up his bed curtains so he won’t be taken by surprise by the next spirit. The bell once again tolls one, but nothing happens. An hour passes before Scrooge finally notices that the light illuminating his clock is coming from the next room. He gets up to investigate it. When he ap…

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A Christmas Carol: The Second of the Three Spirits | SparkNotes

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  • Summary: Articles about A Christmas Carol: The Second of the Three Spirits | SparkNotes “Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning (for … Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, …

  • Match the search results: 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 for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratch…

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Bob Cratchit in A Christmas Carol – Characters – BBC Bitesize

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  • Summary: Articles about Bob Cratchit in A Christmas Carol – Characters – BBC Bitesize The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows the Cratchits in a future where Tiny Tim has died and here we see how sensitive Bob Cratchit is. His love for his son …

  • Match the search results: When the Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge to visit the Cratchits on Christmas Day, he sees Bob Cratchit carrying his sickly son Tiny Tim, and later raising a toast to Scrooge for providing the feast.

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MA 97, Page 58 | Charles Dickens’s Christmas Carol – Morgan …

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  • Summary: Articles about MA 97, Page 58 | Charles Dickens’s Christmas Carol – Morgan … I shouldn’t be at all surprised; mark what I say; if he got Peter a better situation.” “Only hear that, Peter!” said Mrs. Cratchit. “And then,” cried one of the …

  • Match the search results: Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God!

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A Christmas Carol Stave 3 Summary & Analysis | LitCharts

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  • Summary: Articles about A Christmas Carol Stave 3 Summary & Analysis | LitCharts Bob Cratchit represents the ideal Christmas character. He has been mistreated by Scrooge for many years and has Scrooge to blame for his poverty and his …

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A Christmas Carol Reading Text – The Charles Dickens Page

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  • Summary: Articles about A Christmas Carol Reading Text – The Charles Dickens Page And yet Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, … Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, …

  • Match the search results: 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 …

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who is martha cratchit in a christmas carol – Find A Nurse

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  • Summary: Articles about who is martha cratchit in a christmas carol – Find A Nurse ‘ cried the two young Cratchits. Peter Cratchit is the older son of Bob Cratchit in A Christmas Carol. What does Cratchit ask for and what did …

  • Match the search results: Why is Bob Cratchit important? Directed by David W. Collins. In Act I, Scene 5, of A Christmas Carol: Scrooge and Marley, Scrooge sees himself as a child at school. Can be played by a boy, girl or gender neutral. Tiny Tim Cratchit is the son of Bob Cratchit, Scrooge's employee. Who played Marth…

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A Christmas Carol (1999 film) – Wikipedia

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  • Summary: Articles about A Christmas Carol (1999 film) – Wikipedia Scrooge reluctantly gives his loyal, low-paid employee Bob Cratchit Christmas off, as there will be no business for Scrooge during the day.

  • Match the search results: The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come arrives, appearing as a tall, silent, black cloaked figure, and takes Scrooge into the future. At the stock exchange, Scrooge’s acquaintances discuss the death of an unnamed colleague, one of whom says that he only plans to attend the funeral if lunch is provided w…

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How similar is A Christmas Carol to the book? | Radio Times

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  • Summary: Articles about How similar is A Christmas Carol to the book? | Radio Times Bob Cratchit clearly has his suspicions, which are confirmed to viewers … out what she’s prepared to do for money to save her sick son:.

  • Match the search results: In his novella, Dickens also introduces us to the Cratchit family – Mrs Cratchit (now given the name "Mary" by Stephen Knight), eldest daughter Martha (an apprentice), second daughter Belinda, young Master Peter wearing his dad's too-large clothes, and frail Tiny Tim, who "bore a…

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Multi-read content what surprise does mr. cratchit have for his son peter

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

25 A Christmas Carol: Staff 3
Charles Dickens

The second of the three gods

Scrooge woke up with an incredible snore and sat up in bed to focus his thoughts and didn’t get a chance to say the bell rang again as the One collapsed. He feels he regained consciousness at the right time, with the specific purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger sent through Jacob Marley’s intervention. But noticing that he had grown uncomfortably cold as he began to wonder which of his curtains this new Phantom would draw back, he pushed the curtains aside with his own hands and lay down. Again he threw a sharp look across the bed. . Because he wanted to challenge the god as soon as he appeared and not be surprised and upset.

Gentlemen of the free and easy type, who like to get used to a movement or two and are usually up to the time of day, display their varied adventurous abilities by finding that they benefit everyone ; Undoubtedly, between these polar opposites there is a wide and comprehensive range of issues. Without venturing so hard on Scrooge, I have no hesitation in believing you that he is ready for a vast array of strange occurrences and nothing in between. The child and the rhinoceros will amaze him.

Now that he’s prepared for most things, he doesn’t prepare for anything; So when Bell encountered One and no form appeared, he was trembling violently. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour passed, but nothing happened. All the while he lay in his bed, the very core and center of a rosy speck that shone upon it as the clock ticked; and the light alone was more frightening than a dozen ghosts, for he could not understand what it meant or where it went; and sometimes worried that even then he might be an interesting case of spontaneous combustion[First], without the comfort of knowing it. Eventually, however, he began to think—as you or I first thought; for it is always the one who is not in a bind who knows what to do in there, and will surely do it – in the end, I say, he begins to think that the origin and mystery of light is This Ghost is could be in the next room, since when does it seem to shine when you follow it. The idea filled him, and he slowly got up and slipped on his slippers towards the door.

Just as Scrooge’s hand was resting on the lock, a strange voice called his name and motioned for him to come inside. He obeyed.

It was his own room. There is no doubt about it. But it has undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling are draped in vibrant green, to the point that it looks like a perfect forest; pearls glittered everywhere. The brittle leaves of holly, mistletoe and ivy reflect the light as if many small mirrors were scattered there; and a fire so mighty rose up the chimney, for the dull petrification of the hearth was unknown in the days of Scrooge or Marley, or to many since a past winter. Stacked on the floor in a kind of throne turkey, geese, venison, fowl, muscle meat, big chunks of meat, suckling pig, long ringlets of sausages, mince pies, plum pies, oyster barrels, glowing chestnuts, cherry cheek-apple, juicy orange, delicious pear, huge twelfth cake[2], and the punch bowls boiled over, misting the room with their delicious steam. In that stillness on the bench could be seen a glorified, merry giant, holding aloft a luminous torch shaped like the cornucopia to unravel Scrooge as he peered at the door.

“Come in!” The ghost screamed. ‘Come in! and know me better man “

Scrooge entered timidly and bowed his head to this ghost. He wasn’t the stubborn Scrooge he used to be; and though the spirit’s eyes were pure and kind, he did not like to see them.

“I am the spirit of the Christmas present,” Linh said. “Look at me!”

Scrooge did so reverently. It is dressed in a simple green cloak or cloak edged with white fur. This robe was draped so loosely over his body that his large breasts were bare, as if unwilling to be concealed or obscured by any work of art. His feet, visible under the wide folds of his clothing, are also bare; and on his head was no other veil but a wreath of holly, studded here and there with pillars of light. His dark brown locks were long and free; as free as his face, his sparkling eyes, his open hands, his cheerful voice, his uninhibited demeanor and playful manner. His middle ring was an old scabbard; but there was no sword in it, and the ancient scabbard was eaten away by rust.

“You have never seen me!” called Linh.

“Never,” replied Scrooge.

“Never take the younger members of my family for walks; these are (because I am very young) my brothers born in these later years? ‘ walked after Ghost.

“I don’t think so,” said Scrooge. “I’m afraid I haven’t. Do you have many brothers, Spirit? “

“Over eighteen hundred,” Ghost said.

“A huge family to give away,” murmured Scrooge.

The ghost of the Christmas present has risen.

‘Gods,’ said Scrooge obsequiously, ‘lead me where Thou wilt go. Last night I went under pressure and I learned a lesson that is working now. Until evening. Now if you have to teach me, let me benefit from it.’

“Touch my robe!”

Scrooge did as he was told and quickly retained it.

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkey, goose, venison, poultry, meat, meat, pork, sausage, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit and punch all disappeared instantly. That’s the room, the fire, the rosy light, the night, and they’re standing in the street on Christmas morning, where (because of the bad weather) people are making some rough music, but fast and not unpleasant. As they scraped the snow on the sidewalk in front of their house and off the roofs of their houses, the boys were delighted to see it fall onto the street below and break up into small artificial blizzards.

The facade of the house looks black enough and the windows darker, in contrast to the fine white snow on the roof and the dirtier snow on the ground; the last deposit was plowed into deep trenches by heavy wheels and wagons; the furrows cross a hundred times where the great roads fork; and create complex, unfathomable channels in thick yellow mud and cold water. The sky was overcast, and the shortest roads were shrouded in thick fog, half thawed, half frozen, heavier particles fell under the rain of dirty atoms, as if all the tubes in the UK had ignited only by consent, and burns with all might in front of theirs love hearts. The climate or the city is not very pleasant, but outside there is a serene atmosphere which the clearest summer air and the brightest summer sun have tried in vain to spread.

Because he who is emotional on the mousetrap is cheerful and full of joy; shouting to each other from the parapet and exchanging a nice snowball now and then – a rocket is much better than a wordy joke – honest laughter when things go well and no less heart when things go wrong. The liquor stores were still half open and the fruit vendors were beaming in their splendor. Big, round, bulbous baskets of chestnuts shaped like old gentlemen’s jolly waistcoats snuck past the door and tumbled onto the street in a dreamy state. There were rosy, brown-faced, wide-mouthed Spanish brothers who winked at girls with sly slyness as they passed from the shelves and gazed gracefully at the hanging mistletoe. There are pears and apples in full bloom growing in tall clusters in the pyramids; there are bunches of grapes hanging with the kindness of shopkeepers from conspicuous hooks where people’s mouths can drool as they walk by; there are heaps of threads, mosses and browns scented with old woodland walks, and ankle-deep pleasurable creaks through withered foliage; there are Norfolk Biffins[3], crouched and huddled, losing the yellow of oranges and lemons and before the wonderful firmness of juicy people, begged and begged earnestly, begging to be brought home in paper bags and eaten after supper. Presented in a bowl among assorted fruits, the gold and silverfish seemed to know something was wrong despite being members of a dull and stagnant breed; and, for a Pisces, panting about in slow, intoxicating excitement in their little world.

Grocery store! oh the grocery store! almost closed, maybe two hatches or one; but through these gaps such insights. It’s not just the scales falling on the counter that make a pleasant noise, or the twine and spool that separate too quickly, or the boxes that shake up and down like juggling, or even fragrances. grateful for the nose, or even for the raisins so plentiful and rare, the almonds so white, the cinnamon sticks long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruit smothered and sprinkled with sugar melted as if he wanted to make even the coldest people feel weak and then faint. Nor is it that the figs are moist and soft, or that the French plums are red from the sour taste of their ornate boxes, or that everything is delicious to eat and is wearing its Christmas clothes; But all the customers were so hasty and eager for the hopeful promise of the day that they fell against each other at the door, dropping their wicker baskets and leaving their purchases on the floor and counters, and ran back to get them and earn hundreds of the same mistakes, in the funniest way; while Grocer and his men were so direct and fresh that the shiny hearts they wore behind aprons might be their own, worn outside for general inspections and for the Christmas twilight.[4]to see if they vote.

But soon the towers were calling all the good folk to churches and chapels, and they came streaming down the street in their best clothes and with their happiest faces. And at the same time countless people bring their evening meal to the bakeries from so many farewell streets, unnamed alleys and curves[5]. The sight of these poor players seemed to please God greatly, for he had stood with Scrooge beside him in the doorway of a bakery, unpacking as their porters passed, and scattering incense on their supper with his torch. And it was a very rare kind of flare, once or twice when there was angry talk between some of the food delivery men who were jostling each other, he dropped a few drops of water on them and their sense of humor was restored right away. As they say, arguing on Christmas Day is a shame. And so it was! God loved it, that’s how it was!

When the bells stopped ringing and the bakers were silent; yet there is a shadow of all these suppers and their preparation in the thawed wet water over every baker’s oven; where the sidewalk smokes as if its stones are boiling.

Scrooge asked, “Is there a special flavor in what you sprinkle out of your torch?”

‘Have. My own.’

“Does it apply to any kind of dinner that day?” asked Scrooge.

“For every good will. For the poorest. “

Scrooge asked, “Why are you letting the poorest man?”

“Because it’s needed most.”


“Me!” Linh exclaimed.

“You will take their groceries every Saturday[6], that’s often the only day they can have dinner, said Scrooge. “Right?”

“Me!” Linh exclaimed.

“They’re trying to close down these places on Saturdays,” Scrooge says. “And the same thing happens.”

“I’m looking for!” God wept.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong. Scrooge said it was on your behalf, or at least on behalf of your family.

“There are some people on this earth of yours,” replied the spirit, “who claim to know us and who do their works out of passion, pride, malice, hatred, envy and jealousy, jealous, willful and selfish in our name, who is a stranger to us and to all our loved ones and relatives as if they had never lived. Remember, and blame their actions on themselves, not us. “

Scrooge promised; and they went on, unseen as before, to the outskirts of the city. It is a notable trait of Ghost (which Scrooge observed in the Bakery) that despite his enormous size, he can adapt to any location with ease; and that he stood under a low roof quite gracefully and like a supernatural being, as he could do in any lofty hall.

And perhaps it is the joy the good God takes in displaying this power of his, or it is his kind, generous, warm manners and sympathy for all the poor that made him go straight to Scrooge’s secretary; for he went and took Scrooge with his cloak; and on the threshold God smiled and paused to bless Bob Cratchit’s whereabouts by blowing up his torch. Think about it. Bob only has fifteen Bob[7]a week alone; he pocketed only fifteen copies of his first name on Saturdays; but the spirit of the Christmas present blessed his four-room house.

Then increase. Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit’s wife, was well dressed but twice ill dressed in her dress.[8th], but brave in the ties, cheap and well presented for six per cent; and she, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, her second daughter, also boldly laid the cloth in the ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit stuck a fork into a pan of potatoes and mouthed the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob’s private possession, given to his son and honorary heir of the day), glad to see me so well dressed. , and strives to show her clothes in fashion parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, a boy and a girl, burst in, shouting that they smelled gooseberries outside the bakery and know it themselves; and reveling in lavish thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced round the table and saluted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while (not proudly, though his collar almost choked) blew up the fire loudly until the potatoes slowly frothed tap the lid of the pot to burst and peel.

said Mrs. Cratchit. “What about your brother Tiny Tim? And Martha warns not to be more than half an hour late on Christmas Day last year! “

“This is Martha, Mom!” As she spoke, a girl appeared.

“Martha, it’s mom!” cried the two Cratchits. ‘Cheers! There’s a goose, Martha! “

said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times and then fervently taking her scarf and hat from her.

The girl replied, “We had a lot to do last night,” and had to move out this morning, mom. “

‘Good! said Mrs. Cratchit. “Brothers, sit by the fire and warm up, God bless you!”

‘No no! There comes a father, “two young Cratchits, they’re everywhere at once. “Go away, Martha, go away!”

So Martha hid and appeared as Bob the father, with at least three feet of blankets without the fringes lounging before him; and his yarn suit, combed and brushed, looks very fashionable; and Tiny Tim on his shoulder. Too bad for Tiny Tim, he walks on small crutches and his limbs are supported by an iron frame!

“Why, where’s our Martha?” exclaimed Bob Cratchit, looking around.

said Mrs. Cratchit.

said Bob, with sudden elation; for he had been Tintin’s blood horse all the way from the church and returned home in abundance. “Don’t come on Christmas Day!”

Martha didn’t want to see him disappointed if it was just a joke; so she rushed out from behind the closet door early and ran into his arms while two young Cratchits jostled Tiny Tim and led him into the laundry so he could hear Pudding sing in the field.

“And how did little Tim behave? Cratchit as she convinced Bob of his credibility and Bob hugged his daughter.

“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he broods, sits alone a lot and thinks the strangest things you will ever hear. At home he told me that he hoped people would see him at church because he was a disabled person and that they might find it interesting to remember Christmas Day, which made the lame beggars walk and walk made the blind see. ‘

Bob’s voice shook as he told them this, and shook even more when he said that Tiny Tim was getting stronger and more passionate.

The sound of his working crutches echoed on the floor, and Tiny Tim returned before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to a stool in front of the fire; and while Bob lifted the cuffs–as if they would probably be made worse, poor man–mixed some of the hot mixture in a pitcher with gin and lemon, stirred it all, and set it to boil on the stove. ; Master Peter and two famous young Cratchits went to catch the goose, and soon they returned in procession.

A hustle and bustle ensued which might have made one think a goose to be the rarest of birds; a feathered phenomenon where a black swan is a given – and indeed it is something very similar in this house. Mrs. Cratchit heated the gravy (pre-cooked in a small saucepan); Master Peter pounded mashed potatoes with amazing vitality; Miss Belinda sweetened the applesauce; Martha wiped down the hotplates; Bob placed Tiny Tim next to him in a small corner of the table; Two young Cratchits set out chairs for everyone, not forgetting themselves, and adjusted their pole guards, shoving spoons in their mouths so they wouldn’t scream with goosebumps before it was their turn to get help. Finally the food was served and grace was prophesied. There was a pause, for Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly down the carving knife, was about to stab it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long-awaited stream of material came, a murmur of joy rose across the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two Cratchit boys, banged his knife hand on the table, and yelled Hurrah weakly!

There has never been a goose like this. Bob said he couldn’t believe a goose was cooked like that. Its tenderness and flavor, its size and its cheapness are subjects admired by many. With applesauce and mashed potatoes, it’s a family dinner; In fact, as Mrs. Cratchit said happily (as she watched a little bone atom on the plate), they don’t finish it in the end! Still, everyone had enough, and especially the youngest Cratchits, who were eyebrow-covered in sage and onions! But now that Miss Belinda’s plates were being changed, Miss Cratchit left the room alone – too nervous to testify – to fetch the pudding and bring it in.

Suppose not enough should be done! Expect it to erupt again. Suppose someone were to break through the backyard wall and steal them while they were playing with the goose – an assumption that would have left two young Cratchits emaciated! All sorts of horrors should be.

HELLO! Lots of steam! The pudding was out of the box. A scent like a laundry day! This is the cloth. It smells like a cafeteria and bakery next door, with a laundromat next door! It’s pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit came in – flushed but smiling proudly – with a pudding, like a speckled cannonball, so hard and solid, aflame and fast asleep in half a quarter of the kindled brandy fire, while the Christmas holly at it stuck to the top.

Oh, what a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, also calmly, that he thought it was Mrs. Cratchit’s greatest achievement since their marriage. Ms. Cratchit said that now that she doesn’t have the weight in her head, she will admit that she had doubts about the amount of flour. Everyone had something to say about it, but no one said or thought it was a pretty small pudding for a big family. It would be utter heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would blush at alluding to such a thing.

Finally dinner was over, the sheets were cleared, the fireplace was swept and the fire lit. The mixture in the glass is tasted and found to be perfect, apples and oranges are placed on the table and a shovel full of chestnuts is placed on the fire. Then the whole Cratchit family would line up around the fireplace in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half; and next to Bob Cratchit’s elbow is the family’s eyewear display. Two milkshake cups and one pudding cup without a handle.

These, however, contain the hot stuff from the pitcher, just as gold cups do; and Bob served it up beaming, while the chestnuts spattered and crackled loudly on the fire. Then Bob suggested:

“Merry Christmas to all of us, my dear children. God bless us!’

And all families resound.

“May God bless each one of us!” Tiny Tim, the last to speak.

He sat very close to his father on his little stool. Bob grasped his withered little hand as if he loved the child and wanted to keep him and feared that he might be taken away from him.

“Ghost,” said Scrooge with an interest he had never felt before, “tell me if Tiny Tim is still alive.”

‘I see an empty room,’ replied Ghost, ‘in the corner of the dingy chimney, and a well-preserved, ownerless crutch. If these shadows of the future remain unchanged, the child will die.”

“No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh no, dear God! said he would be spared. “

“Unless these shadows of the future are altered, no one else of my race will find him here,” Ghost countered. Then what. If he wants to die, he should do better and reduce the excess population. “

Scrooge bowed his head to hear his own words quoted by the ghost and repented and mourned.

“Man,” said the spirit, “if man has a heart and is not steadfast, do not stop that wicked man until you find out what excess is and where he is. They will decide which men will live, which men will die? It is possible that you are useless in the eyes of heaven and unable to live more than millions of people like this poor man’s child. Oh my God! to hear the insect on the leaves of so much life in its hungry brethren in the bush. “

Scrooge bent over the spirit’s rebuke and looked down anxiously. But he picked her up quickly when he heard his own name.

“Lord Scrooge!” Bob said; “I give you Mr. Scrooge, Founder of the Festival!”

cried Mrs. Cratchit, face red. “I wish I had him here. I will give him some of my thoughts to enjoy and I hope he will enjoy it. “

Bob said, “Kids! Christmas Day.’

‘I’m sure it’s Christmas,’ she said, ‘and thus has the sanity of a pathetic, tight-fisted, hard, emotionless man like Mr Scrooge. You know that Robert. Nobody knows that better than you, poor man. “

“Honey,” was Bob’s soft reply, “Christmas day.”

‘I’ll drink his health for you and the day,’ said Mrs Cratchit, ‘not for him. Long life to him! Merry Christmas and a happy new year! – She will be very happy and very happy, I have no doubt!”

The children drank together to congratulate her. This was the first time in her trial that there was no sympathy. Tiny Tim drank it one last time but didn’t care. Scrooge is the elf of the family. Mention of his name cast a shadow over the party that wasn’t dispelled for five minutes.

After it was over, they were ten times happier than before, from Scrooge’s relief that Baleful was done. Bob Cratchit tells them what his situation is with Master Peter, who, if anything, will be bringing in a full five and six percent weekly. Two young Cratchits laughed heartily at the idea of ​​Peter becoming a businessman; and Peter himself gazed thoughtfully at the fire from the center of his necklace, as if contemplating which specific investments to prioritize when receiving that bewildering return. Martha, the poor miller’s apprentice, then told them what work she had to do, how many hours she worked hard, and that she intended to lie down until tomorrow morning. Tomorrow is a holiday she has over the house. Also, she had seen a countess and a lord a few days ago, and how the lord was “about the size of Peter”; Peter has pulled his collar up so that you wouldn’t be able to see his head otherwise. there. All the while the chestnuts and the vase are round and round; and as a farewell they have a song about a lost child traveling in the snow by Tiny Tim who has a small wistful voice and sings it really beautifully.

Nothing is appreciated about that. They’re not a pretty family; they are not well dressed; their shoes are waterproof; their clothes are in disorder; and Peter may have known, and most likely did, at the pawn shop. But they are happy, grateful, content with each other and content with the times; and as they died, looking even happier in the light of the Divine Torch as they parted, Scrooge kept an eye on them, and especially Tiny Tim, to the very end.

By now it was getting dark and the snow was quite heavy; and as Scrooge and the Ghost walked the streets, the brightness of the fires burning in the kitchens, parlors, and every possible room was wonderful. Here the flickering firelight indicates the preparation for a leisurely dinner, with hot plates grilling over the open fire and deep red drapes ready to block the prize, cold and dark. There all the children of the house ran out into the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles and aunts and were the first to greet them. Here, too, the shadows were on the window panes of the assembled guests; and there was a group of pretty girls, all wearing hoods and furs, all chatting at once and walking quietly to a nearby neighbor’s house; Woe to a single man who saw them enter – artistic magicians, they know well – in the blink of an eye!

However, judging by the number of people on the street and the friendly gatherings, you might think that no one is home to greet them when they get there, but that every home is expected to have company to. – high chimney. Bless it, how excited Ma! How it bared the expanse of its breasts and opened its expansive palm and stepped forward, lavishly lavish hand, its gleaming and harmless mirror over all that was within its reach! It was the lamplighter who had run before, smeared the desolate street with spots of light and dressed to spend the evening somewhere, who laughed out loud as Linh passed, although the boy knew nothing of the lamp he has each Company except Christmas.

And now, without a word of warning from the Spirit, they stood upon a desolate and desolate moor, whereto huge chunks of coarse stone were being hurled as if it were the burial ground of giants. ; and the water will spread wherever it appears, or might, but for the frost that caged it; and nothing grows but moss and down[9], and coarse rank grass. To the west the setting sun had left a red streak that shimmered desolately for a moment like a droopy eye and frowned deeper, deeper, deeper, in the darkness, close to the darkest night.

“Where is that?” asked Scrooge.

“A place where miners live, laborers in the bowels of the earth,” God replied. “But you know me. See!’

Light shone from the window of a hut and they walked quickly toward it. Passing through the wall of mud and rock, they found a merry company gathered around a blazing fire. An elderly man and woman with their children and children and another generation, all attractively dressed in their ceremonial attire. The old man sang to them a Christmas carol in a voice that seldom drowned out the howling wind over the barren desert – it was a very old carol when he was a boy! – and everyone joins in the chorus every now and then. So when they spoke the old man must have turned blue and loud; and sure enough, when they stopped, his vitality sank again.

God doesn’t care, but asks Scrooge to keep his cloak and race across the moor no matter what. Not to the beach. Out of. To Scrooge’s horror, as he looked back, he saw the last stretch of land, a fearsome array of rocks, behind him; and his ears were deaf from the roar of the waters as he rolled and roared and raged in the terrible caves he had dug, trying to destroy the earth by force.

Built on an ugly reef of submerged rocks, a few mountain ranges from shore where the water divides and cuts, the year-round wilderness stands a lonely lighthouse. Great tufts of seaweed hung from his feet, and petrels—born of the wind, one might say like seaweed in the water—rose and fell around him, like waves passing by.

But here, too, the two men watching the light lit a fire that released a ray of light across the terrible sea through the crack in the thick rock face. They brought their calloused hands to the rough table at which they sat, and in their boxes wished each other a Merry Christmas; and one of them: also the eldest, whose face was scarred and wounded by harsh weather, like the shape of an old ship’s head: played a strong song like the body of the storm.

Again the spirit raced across the black and surging sea-on, until far away, as he said to Scrooge, they lit up a ship from each shore. They stood beside the captain at the wheel and looked out over the bow while the officers kept watch; dark, ghostly figures in some of their stations; but each of them hums a carol, or thinks of Christmas, or talks to his companion on Christmas Eve, hoping to get to his house. And everyone on board, awake or asleep, for better or for worse, had a kinder word to others that day than any other day of the year; and to some extent shared in its feasts; and missed those he cared about far away and knew they were glad to remember him.

It was a great surprise to Scrooge to listen to the howling of the wind and imagine the solemnity of crossing the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss where the mysteries run as deep as the thing thing. was surprised for Scrooge, while he was already joining in, when he heard a hearty laugh. Scrooge was much more surprised when he realized it was his own nephew and found himself in a bright, dry, sparkling room with God smiling beside him and looking at the nephew with kind appreciation.

“Ha ha!” Scrooge’s grandson laughed. ‘Hahaha!’

If you happen to know a man who laughs louder than Scrooge’s nephew, all I can say is that I’d like to meet him too. Introduce him to me and I will cultivate his acquaintance.

It is the just, regular, and noble order of things that while sickness and sorrow are contagious, nothing in the world is so irresistible as laughter and joy. When Scrooge’s grandson laughs like this: curls up on one side, rolls his head and twists his face into the wildest of expressions: Scrooge’s granddaughter, when she is married, smiles just as genuinely as he does. And their assembled friends, without a moment’s hesitation, roared pitifully.

‘Haha! Ha-ha-ha-ha! ‘

“He said Christmas is a jolly day as I live!” Scrooge’s grandson cried. “He thinks so too!”

“Even more embarrassing for him, Fred!” said Scrooge’s niece indignantly. Bless these women; they never do anything halfway. They are always serious.

She was very pretty: extremely beautiful. With a face naturally dimpled, surprised; a small mature mouth, seemingly kissed – no doubt; all sorts of fine dots on her chin that merge when she laughs; and the most beautiful eyes you will ever see in the mind of a little being. Overall she’s what you might call provocative, you know; but also satisfactory. Oh, totally satisfied!

Scrooge’s grandson said, “He’s a funny old friend,” that’s true: and not so pleasant. However, his offenses are all subject to their own punishment, and I have no objection to him. “

“I’m sure he’s very rich, Fred,” Scrooge’s niece suggested. “At least that’s what you always sayIso.’

Dagobert’s grandson said: “What is it, my dear! “His possessions are of no use to him. He didn’t do any good with it. He’s not comfortable with that. He is not content with thinking – ha ha ha! – That he will benefit us with it. ”

Scrooge’s granddaughter commented: “I have no patience with him. Scrooge’s niece’s sisters and all the other women expressed the same opinion.

‘Oh I did!’ said Scrooge’s grandson. ‘I’m so sorry for him; I can’t be mad at him if I try. Who has to endure his bad moods? He is, always. Here, he thinks he doesn’t like us and he’s not coming to eat with us. What are the consequences? It didn’t take him long for dinner. “

“Indeed, I think he lost a very good meal,” interrupted Scrooge’s niece. Everyone else said the same thing, and they must be allowed to be competent judges because they had just had dinner; and, with dessert on the table, grouped around a fire, by light.

‘Good. I’m glad to hear that,’ said Scrooge’s nephew, ‘for I don’t have much faith in these young butlers. What are you saying, Topper? “

Topper apparently had his eye on one of Scrooge’s niece’s sisters when he replied that a bachelor was a lousy outcast who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Although Dagobert’s sister – the fat one with the lace dress[ten]: not the one with the rose – blush.

“Go on, Fred,” said Scrooge’s niece, clapping her hands. “He never finishes what he starts to say! He is such nonsense! “

Scrooge’s grandson enjoyed another laugh, and as it failed to stop the infection; although the fat sister tried very hard to do it with vinegar; His example was followed unanimously.

‘I’m just saying,’ said Scrooge’s grandson, ‘in not liking us and not having fun with us, I think he lost some of his happy moments, which I’m sure he had lost with more pleasant friends than he could find in his mind, in his musty old office or in rooms full of… I mean give him that chance every year whether he likes it or not because I feel sorry for him he’ll probably go until Christmas he dies , but he couldn’t help but change his mind – I dare him – if he went there year after year in a good mood and looked at Uncle Scrooge, how do you say, in a vein, leaving his poor servant fifty pounds,It is aanything else; and I think I caught him yesterday. “

Now it was their turn to laugh at the idea of ​​his trembling Scrooge. But since he’s a totally nice guy and doesn’t care what they’re laughing at, he makes them laugh at every moment, cheering them on and happily breaking the bottle.

After tea they had some music. Because they’re a musical family and they know what they’re talking about when they sing Glee or Catch[11], I can assure you: especially Topper, who can growl like a good man in the bass and never swell the large veins on his forehead or get red in the face. Scrooge’s niece plays the harp well; and play alongside other tunes in a simple little atmosphere (it’s just nothing: you can learn to whistle it in less than two minutes) already familiar to the kid who picked Scrooge out of boarding school, as if he were made by Ghost of the past reminds Christmas. As the music played, all the things Ghost had shown him flashed through his mind; he becomes weaker and weaker; and thought that if he could have heard it many years ago, he might personally have cultivated kindness in his life for his own happiness, without resorting to the spade of the sacristan who buried Jacob Marley.

But they don’t spend the evening with music. After a while they lose; for being a kid sometimes, and never better than at Christmas when its great founder was a kid. To stop! For the first time there is a buffed game for the blind. Yes of course. And I don’t think Topper is truly blind any more than I think he has eyes in his boots. In my opinion it was a foregone conclusion between him and Scrooge’s nephew; and the spirit of the Christmas present knew it. The path he followed his plump sister in the lace dress was an outrage at the resilience of human nature. Folding the mantle iron, tripping over the chair, bumping into the piano, burrowing between the curtains, wherever she goes, he goes. He always knew where his chubby sister was. He won’t arrest anyone again. If you go against him on purpose (as some of them have done), he will purposely try to take you over, which will be offensive to your understanding, and will immediately dodge towards the chubby sister. She often exclaims that it’s not fair; and it really doesn’t. But in the end he got her; when he had cornered her with no way out, despite all her silky rustles and quick strokes that brushed past him; then his conduct is most virtuous. Because he pretends not to know her; he pretends that it is necessary to touch her dress and further secures her identity by pressing a certain ring on her finger and a certain necklace on her neck; so mean, monstrous! No doubt she was giving him her opinion on that, when another blind man was on duty, they were very secretive behind the curtain.

Scrooge’s niece was not among the blind partygoers, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool in a cozy corner where Ghost and Scrooge stood behind her. But she joined the lost and loved her admiration for all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise, she was wonderful at the how, when, and where game, defeating her sisters to the secret amusement of her nephew Scrooge: although they were the sharp girl, too, as you may have said. There were perhaps twenty people, young and old, but all were playing, and so was Scrooge; for completely forgetting his interest in what was going on, for the fact that his voice made no sound in her ears, that he uttered his guess quite loudly at times, and guessed correctly most of the time; for the sharpest needle, the best Whitechapel, guaranteed not to sting the eye, is no sharper than Scrooge; as blunt as he thought it was in his head.

The ghost was pleased to see him in this mood, and looked at him so benevolently that he begged, like a little boy, to be allowed to stay until the guests had gone. But that, says God, cannot be done.

“It’s a new game,” said Scrooge. ‘An hour and a half, Spirit, just one!’

It’s a yes-no game where Scrooge’s nephew has to come up with something and the others have to figure something out; He only answered their questions with yes or no, depending on the case. The flame of the question he came in contact with suggested that he was thinking of an animal, a living animal, more of an animal of difference, a wild animal, an animal that sometimes growled and grumbled, sometimes talked and lived in London. and walked the streets without appearing and being led by no one and not living in a barn and never killing in the market and not horse or donkey or ox or bullock or tiger or dog or or pig cat or bear. With every new question asked, the grandson burst out laughing heartily; and felt an indescribable tickling, so much so that he was forced to get up off the sofa and stomp. Finally, in a similar situation, the chubby sister exclaimed:

‘I found it! I know what it is Fred! I know what it is!’

“What is that?” shouted Fred.

“That’s your Uncle Scrooge!”

Which it surely is. Admiration is a common feeling, although some people object that the answer to the question “Is it a bear?” Should have been “yes”; for a negative answer was enough to divert their minds from Mr. Scrooge, assuming they had ever been inclined to do so.

“He brought us so much joy, I’m sure,” said Fred, “and it would be ungrateful not to toast to his health.” Here is a glass of mulled wine ready for us at this time; and I said: “Uncle Dagobert!” ‘

‘Good. Uncle Scrooge! “They cried.

“Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is.” said Scrooge’s grandson. “He won’t take it from me, but he can still get it. Uncle Scrooge! ‘

Uncle Scrooge had become so cheerful and light-hearted that he could, in return, confide in the unconscious company and thank them with a harsh speech, if the spirit would give him time. But the whole scene had vanished in the breath of his grandson’s last words; and he and the spirit were on their journey again.

They have seen many, traveled far and visited many homes, but there is always a happy ending. God stood by the hospital bed, they were happy; in foreign land, and they are near home; of men in trouble and patient with their greater hope; rich and poor. In the workhouse, in the hospital, and in the jail, every haven in trouble where the man in his short powers fantasizes.[Twelfth]did not quickly open the door and prevent the ghost from leaving, he left a blessing and taught Scrooge his commandments.

It’s been a long night if it were just one night; but Scrooge doubts this, for Christmas Day seems condensed into the period in which they passed together. Curiously, Ghost grows older, obviously older, while Scrooge remains unchanged in appearance. Scrooge had observed this change but never spoken of it until, after they had left the Twelfth Night children’s party, he saw Spirit standing together in an open space and noticed that his hair was grey.

Scrooge asked: “Is the life of souls so short?”

“My life on this earth, very short,” Ghost replied. ‘It ends tonight.’

“This evening!” cried Scrooge.

‘Until midnight. Listen! The time is coming. “

The bell rang at a quarter to eleven.

Scrooge said, while peering into the god’s cloak, I saw something strange, not my own, sticking out of his skirt. Is it a paw or a claw? “

“It might be a claw, for the flesh is on it,” was the spirit’s painful reply. ‘Look here.’

From the folds of the cloak it produced two children; wretched, disgusting, frightening, abominable, wretched. They knelt at his feet and clung to the outside of his shirt.

‘Oh my God! Look here! Look, look, down here! ‘ cried the ghost.

They are a boy and a girl. Yellow, shriveled, shriveled, sinister, wolfish; but also prostrate themselves in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features and touched them with the freshest shades, an old and shriveled hand, like that of old age, pinched, twisted and tore them. Where angels dwelt, demons lurked and stared at them menacingly. No change, no degradation, no metamorphosis of humanity, at every level in all the mysteries of the great creation there are monsters that are half terrible and terrifying.

Scrooge returns, frightened. When they presented themselves to him like this, he tried to say that they were good children, but the words took his breath away instead of being the side of a lie of such magnitude.

“Ghost, are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.

“They are of men,” said God, looking down at them. “And they clung to me, and cried of their fathers. This boy is ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware of both, in every way, but most of all beware of this boy because on his forehead I see the handwriting as Doom unless the writing is erased. reject it! ‘ Linh cried, stretching out his hand to the city. “Slander those who say it! Acknowledge it for your own good and make it worse! And the final compliance! ‘

“Have they no refuge or resources?” cried Scrooge.

“Isn’t there a prison?” Gu Chen asked, cringing at his own words for the last time. “No factories?”

The bell strikes twelve o’clock.

Scrooge looks for Ghost in him and doesn’t find him. When the final blow stopped shaking, he remembered old Jacob Marley’s prediction and raised his eyes to see a grave ghost, cloaked in a hood, approaching him like a mist across the ground.

  1. auto ignition. Hay and coal can self-ignite, but Dickens insists the human body can do the same. See preface to
  2. gloomy house
  3. , in which he said that 30 such cases are being registered.
  4. A decorated cake is baked to celebrate Twelfth Night (January 5, before Epiphany).
  5. Many apple varieties.
  6. see.
  7. Othello
  8. , 1.1. 65-66: “But I’ll wear my heart on my sleeve / For the warblers.” The daw or jackdaw is a common black and gray bird.
  9. Bakers are forbidden from baking bread on Sundays and public holidays, but for a small fee they allow people to bring meals to cook in their toaster ovens.
  10. In his pamphlet, Sunday Among Three Heads, Dickens opposes efforts to pass the Sunday Compliance Bill, which would limit people’s right to enjoy entertainment and buy bread on Sundays.
  11. Slang for a shilling.
  12. An old and newly made dress.
  13. An evergreen shrub with thorns.
  14. A piece of lace or similar worn around or inside the bodice.
  15. A joy is a song sung by three or more; A catch is a round, a song in which two or more voices sing the same tune but each start at different times, as in “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”.
  16. see.
  17. measure to measure
  18. , 2:2, 121-22, “But a proud man, / Put on a little authority.”

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The Cratchits celebrate Christmas in South Coast Repertory’s 30th Anniversary production of “A Christmas Carol” featuring Hal Landon Jr (Ebenezer Scrooge), Timothy Landfield (Spirit of Christmas Present), Daniel Blinkoff (Bob Cratchit), Jennifer Parsons (Mrs. Cratchit), Alisha Ambe (Tiny Tim), Juli Biagi (Belinda Cratchit), Nicole Dumbeck (Martha Cratchit) and Benjamin Dilsisian (Peter Cratchit)


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