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Preface
IhaveendeavouredinthisGhostlylittlebook，toraisetheGhostofanIdea，whichshallnotputmyreadersoutofhumourwiththemselves，witheachother，withtheseason，orwithme。Mayithaunttheirhousespleasantly，andnoonewishtolayit。
TheirfaithfulFriendandServant，
C。D。
December，1843。
Chapter1Marley'sGhost
Marleywasdead：tobeginwith。Thereisnodoubtwhateveraboutthat。Theregisterofhisburialwassignedbytheclergyman，theclerk，theundertaker，andthechiefmourner。Scroogesignedit。AndScrooge'snamewasgoodupon‘Change，foranythinghechosetoputhishandto。
OldMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail。
Mind！Idon'tmeantosaythatIknow，ofmyownknowledge，whatthereisparticularlydeadaboutadoor-nail。Imighthavebeeninclined，myself，toregardacoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinthetrade。Butthewisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile；andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit，ortheCountry'sdonefor。Youwillthereforepermitmetorepeat，emphatically，thatMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail。
Scroogeknewhewasdead？Ofcoursehedid。Howcoulditbeotherwise？ScroogeandhewerepartnersforIdon'tknowhowmanyyears。Scroogewashissoleexecutor，hissoleadministrator，hissoleassign，hissoleresiduarylegatee，hissolefriend，andsolemourner。AndevenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesadevent，butthathewasanexcellentmanofbusinessontheverydayofthefuneral，andsolemniseditwithanundoubtedbargain。ThementionofMarley'sfuneralbringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom。ThereisnodoubtthatMarleywasdead。Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood，ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthestoryIamgoingtorelate。IfwewerenotperfectlyconvincedthatHamlet'sFatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan，therewouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnight，inaneasterlywind，uponhisownramparts，thantherewouldbeinanyothermiddle-agedgentlemanrashlyturningoutafterdarkinabreezyspot--saySaintPaul'sChurchyardforinstance--literallytoastonishhisson'sweakmind。
ScroogeneverpaintedoutOldMarley'sname。Thereitstood，yearsafterwards，abovethewarehousedoor：ScroogeandMarley。ThefirmwasknownasScroogeandMarley。SometimespeoplenewtothebusinesscalledScroogeScrooge，andsometimesMarley，butheansweredtobothnames。Itwasallthesametohim。
Oh！Buthewasatight-fistedhandatthegrind-stone，Scrooge！asqueezing，wrenching，grasping，scraping，clutching，covetous，oldsinner！Hardandsharpasflint，fromwhichnosteelhadeverstruckoutgenerousfire；secret，andself-contained，andsolitaryasanoyster。Thecoldwithinhimfrozehisoldfeatures，nippedhispointednose，shrivelledhischeek，stiffenedhisgait；madehiseyesred，histhinlipsblue；andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice。Afrostyrimewasonhishead，andonhiseyebrows，andhiswirychin。Hecarriedhisownlowtemperaturealwaysaboutwithhim；heicedhisofficeinthedogdays；anddidn'tthawitonedegreeatChristmas。
ExternalheatandcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge。Nowarmthcouldwarm，nowintryweatherchillhim。Nowindthatblewwasbittererthanhe，nofallingsnowwasmoreintentuponitspurpose，nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty。Foulweatherdidn'tknowwheretohavehim。Theheaviestrain，andsnow，andhail，andsleet，couldboastoftheadvantageoverhiminonlyonerespect。Theyoften`camedown‘handsomely，andScroogeneverdid。
Nobodyeverstoppedhiminthestreettosay，withgladsomelooks，`MydearScrooge，howareyou？Whenwillyoucometoseeme？‘Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestowatrifle，nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso'clock，nomanorwomaneveronceinallhislifeinquiredthewaytosuchandsuchaplace，ofScrooge。Eventheblindmen'sdogsappearedtoknowhim；andwhentheysawhimcomingon，wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysandupcourts；andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughtheysaid，`Noeyeatallisbetterthananevileye，darkmaster！’
ButwhatdidScroogecare！Itwastheverythingheliked。Toedgehiswayalongthecrowdedpathsoflife，warningallhumansympathytokeepitsdistance，waswhattheknowingonescall`nuts‘toScrooge。
Onceuponatime--ofallthegooddaysintheyear，onChristmasEve--oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house。Itwascold，bleak，bitingweather：foggywithal：andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtoutside，gowheezingupanddown，beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts，andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmthem。Thecityclockshadonlyjustgonethree，butitwasquitedarkalready--ithadnotbeenlightallday--andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices，likeruddysmearsuponthepalpablebrownair。Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkandkeyhole，andwassodensewithout，thatalthoughthecourtwasofthenarrowest，thehousesoppositeweremerephantoms。Toseethedingycloudcomedroopingdown，obscuringeverything，onemighthavethoughtthatNaturelivedhardby，andwasbrewingonalargescale。
ThedoorofScrooge'scounting-housewasopenthathemightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk，whoinadismallittlecellbeyond，asortoftank，wascopyingletters。Scroogehadaverysmallfire，buttheclerk'sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitlookedlikeonecoal。Buthecouldn'treplenishit，forScroogekeptthecoal-boxinhisownroom；andsosurelyastheclerkcameinwiththeshovel，themasterpredictedthatitwouldbenecessaryforthemtopart。Whereforetheclerkputonhiswhitecomforter，andtriedtowarmhimselfatthecandle；inwhicheffort，notbeingamanofastrongimagination，hefailed。
`AmerryChristmas，uncle！Godsaveyou！‘criedacheerfulvoice。ItwasthevoiceofScrooge'snephew，whocameuponhimsoquicklythatthiswasthefirstintimationhehadofhisapproach。
`Bah！‘saidScrooge，`Humbug！’
Hehadsoheatedhimselfwithrapidwalkinginthefogandfrost，thisnephewofScrooge's，thathewasallinaglow；hisfacewasruddyandhandsome；hiseyessparkled，andhisbreathsmokedagain。
`Christmasahumbug，uncle！‘saidScrooge'snephew。`Youdon'tmeanthat，Iamsure？’
`Ido，‘saidScrooge。`MerryChristmas！Whatrighthaveyoutobemerry？Whatreasonhaveyoutobemerry？You'repoorenough。’
`Come，then，‘returnedthenephewgaily。`Whatrighthaveyoutobedismal？Whatreasonhaveyoutobemorose？You'rerichenough。’
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