A Ghost Story of Christmas

From New York, Quicksilver Radio Theater presents A Ghost Story for Christmas. The author of our tale suggested that it be listened to in a darkened room. So please, turn down your lights and travel with us to Queen Victoria's London in the year of our Lord, 1843. as we bring you A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Marley was dead. To begin with, this must be understood or nothing can come of this story. There is no doubt about it. He was dead. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and Scrooge's name was good on the exchange for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doornail. Or rather, coffin nail. Scrooge knew he was dead.

Of course he did. Scrooge and Marley were partners for I don't know how many years. Ah, but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone with Scrooge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner. And once upon a time, of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve, old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. A grim, cheerless place if ever there was one. No warmth could warm the place where Scrooge was. His office door was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, Bob Cratchit, who, in a cold and dismal little cell beyond, worked at his ledges. 19, 21, 20. Loo-lay, low-lay. Bob Cratchit! Yes, Mrs. Greer? Stop that wretched catawari! Yes, sir. 9, 15, 17, 29.

Internal impudence! Screeching their idiotic songs at my very door! Go on. Get away from my door. You'll go somewhere else, fella, you blasted carol. I'll have you arrested. Sorry, Governor. It's no custom at Christmas time, you know. I don't want any of your old customs. Take your fellow fools and go away before I wrap you with his ruler. Christmas. Right, sir. Merry Christmas anyway. Cratchit. Yes, Mr. Scrooge. Stop at the Wells' place. You tell old Lionel, Wells, you've come for the 17 shillings and sixpence that's a fortnight past due. Mr. Wells' wife has been ill, sir. I was not speaking of his wife. I just thought we'd be in Christmas, sir. Christmas, Christmas. You mention that word to me once more, Bob Cratchit, and I'll... Merry Christmas, Uncle. Merry Christmas, Bob. Merry Christmas, Mr. Fred. God save you, Uncle. Ah, humbug. Christmas a humbug, Uncle.

Now, I'm sure you don't mean that. I mean exactly that. Merry Christmas. What right have you to be merry? What reason have you? You're poor enough. Well, what right have you to be dismal about Christmas, Uncle? You're rich enough. Now, Uncle, don't be cross. Well, what else can I be when I live in such a world of fools? What's Christmas to you but a time for paying bills without money? A time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer. If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips would be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stick of holly through his heart. He should. Now, Uncle. Now, nephew, keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine. Keep it? But you don't keep it, Uncle. Well, let me leave it alone then. What do you want from me? My sister, Fan, died so you could be born. Wasn't that quite enough to give you? I came to wish you a Merry Christmas, Uncle.

Oh, Merry Christmas. Much good may Christmas do you. Much good it has ever done you. There are many things from which I derive good by which I have not profited materially. I dare say, Uncle, Christmas among the rest. But I've always thought of Christmas time as a good time, a time for giving, a charitable, pleasant time. And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe it has done me good and will do me good. And I say God bless it. God bless Christmas! Oh, wrong! You let me hear another sound out of you there, Bob Cratchit, and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situation. Yes, sir. As to you, nephew, I wonder you don't go into Parliament. You talk enough nonsense. Don't be angry, Uncle. Come. Dine with us tomorrow. I will see you in hell first. But why? Why? Why did you get married? Because I fell in love. Because you fell in love. Good afternoon. I'm sorry with all my heart you feel that way. Well, I've tried. So, a Merry Christmas, Uncle. Good afternoon. And a Happy New Year, too. Good afternoon! And a Merry Christmas to you, Bob and the missus and Tiny Tim.

Thank you, Mr. Fred. Same to you, sir. Good day, sir. Good day, Bob. Merry Christmas, and not two sixpence to jingle together in his trousers' pocket. I'll retire to a lunatic asylum. You there, Bob Cratchit! What are you doing? I was only putting a bit more coal in the fire. Mr. Cousin, it's so cold in there, sir. You put that coal back into the scuttle. A fire, indeed. I can tell you, if you use coal at that rate, you and I will soon be parting company, Bob Cratchit. There's many a young fellow would like your situation, you know. I'm sorry, sir. My fingers are getting a little stiff with the coat. Then put on your mittens. There's someone at the door. See who it is. Yes, sir. Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon. This is the firm of Scrooge and Marley. Yes, sir. I should like to see the head of the firm, if I may. Very good, sir. What is it? Gentleman to see you is Mr. Scrooge. Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley? Well, you haven't the pleasure of addressing Mr. Marley.

He's been dead seven years tonight. I'm Scrooge. Well, Mr. Scrooge, at this season of the year, it's only fitting that we who are more fortunate should raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink in means of warmth. You may not believe it, sir, but many thousands are now in want of common necessities and hundreds of thousands are in want of the simplest comforts. Are there no prison? Plenty of prisons. And the workhouses, they're still in operation? I wish I could say they were not, but they are, sir. The treadmill and the poor law are in full vigour, then? Very busy, sir. Oh, I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course. No, sir. All these institutions that you mentioned are flourishing. Nevertheless, it is true that some provision for the poor and the destitute must be made. Few of us on the exchange are endeavouring to raise such a fund, you see. What should I put you down for? Nothing. You wish to be anonymous?

I wish to be let alone. Since you ask what I wish, that is my answer. I don't make mirror myself at Christmas time, and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments that I mentioned. They cost enough. Those who are badly off must go there. Many can't go there, sir, and many would rather die. Well, then my advice to them is to do so and decrease the surplus population. Besides, I've only your word for it that this is all so. It is so, Mr. Scrooge. So be it, then. It's not my business. It's enough for a man to understand his own business and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, sir. I quite understand, Mr. Scrooge. Good afternoon. Cratchit, show this gentleman out. Yes, sir. This way, sir, please. Sir, I couldn't help overhearing. I should like to contribute tuppence. It isn't much, but it's all I can afford. And there are others in worse situations than I.

You're a generous fellow. I wish I might say so of your implore. Cratchit! Oh, yes, sir. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, sir. Close that door. Yes, sir. 24, 31, 1, character 3, new scarlet, tippet for Tiny Tim, a comb for Martha. Ratchet. Yes, sir. It's too late to do any business now. They spent. You may as well close up. Yes, sir. It's getting a little dark, hard to see the figures. You'll want the entire day tomorrow, I suppose. If it's quite convenient, sir. Oh, it's not convenient. And it's not fair. If I was to stop half a crown of your wages, you'd think yourself very ill-used. I'll be bowed. And yet, you don't think me ill-used when I pay a day's wages for no work. Only once a year, sir. Once a year. A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every 25th of December. But I suppose you must have the whole day. You see that you're here all the earlier the next morning.

Understand me? I will, sir. I will indeed. Good night, sir, and Merry Christmas. The office was closed in a twinkling, and Bob Cratchit, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist, for he boasted no great cut, went down a slide on Corn Hill twenty times in honour of it being Christmas Eve, and then ran home to Camden down as hard as he could trot to play with his family at Blind Man's Bluff. Scrooge, on the other hand, took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern, and having read all the newspapers and spent the rest of the evening with his banker's book, went to his dismal house, which had once belonged to his dead partner. The yard was so dark that even Scrooge, who knew its every stone, had to grope with his hand through the fog in the frost to find the dawn.

Now, explain to me, if you can, how the knocker, very ordinary, if somewhat large, now showed the face of Jacob Marley. Must be rusting. But rust does not have its own dismal light about it, nor does it have spectacles upon its forehead. nor long hair stirring upwards as if by hot air. It's humbug. This did make Scrooge a bit irresolute. When he started up the stairs, gloomy though they were, he was unnerved to seem to see a great black hearse going up before him. Just shadows, cheap candles. Scrooge walked through his rooms to see that all was right. Sitting room. Bedroom. Lumber room.

All as they should be. Nobody under the table. Nobody under the sofa. Nobody under the bed. Nobody in the closet. Closed the door. He locked himself in. Double locked himself in. which was not his custom and took off his cravat put on his dressing gown slippers and nightcap and sat down before the pitiful fire to take his gruel he chanced to glance upon an old disused bell on the mantle it had been years since it had called a servant so it fed a growing dread in Scrooge when it slowly began to vibrate then swing then peel He looked to the poor low fire for reassurance And it leapt up Ebenezer school It's all humbug I need a good night's sleep, that's all

I won't believe it Someone's in the cellar But that door is double locked Something's coming Something's coming closer It's outside my door Ebeneezer Scrooge Ebeneezer Scrooge No, no, what do you want with me? I want much of you, Ebeneezer Who are you? Ask me who I was You're very particular for a ghost Who are you then? In life, I was your partner, Jacob Marley But you died seven years ago Ah, I have sat beside you, invisible, for many a day. You can sit down. I can. Well, do it, then. Don't you believe in me now? I do not. Why do you doubt your senses? Because a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheat.

You may be an undigested bit of beef or a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more. Gravy, then grave about you, whatever you are. Man of the worldly mind, do you believe in me or not? I do. I do. I must. But why do you walk the earth? Why do you come to me? It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad amongst his fellow men And travel far and wide And if that spirit goes not forth in life It is condemned to do so after death In life my spirit never roamed beyond the narrow limits Of our money-changing home You're fettered, why? I wear the chain I forged in life I made it link by link

And yard by yard of my own free will Is its pageant strange to you? I see cash boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, purses. Yours was as heavy and as long as this seven Christmases ago. You have labored on it since, Ebenezer. Speak comfort to me, Jacob. I have none to give. It comes from other regions to other kinds of men. I cannot rest. I cannot stay. I cannot linger. Many weary journeys lie before me You must be very slow about it, Jacob Seven years dead and traveling all that time I travel on the wings of the men Seven years of unceasing remorse Ebenezer, do you not know that no space of regret Can make amends for one's life's opportunities missed you? But you were always a good man of business, Jacob

business. Mankind was my business. Charity, mercy, benevolence, they were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business. Don't take on so now, Jacob. Oh, Captain, bound and double-ironed. Hear me, Ebenezer. My time is nearly gone. Now listen, Jacob. Now listen, speak. But don't be so flowery. At this time of the rolling year, I suffer most. Why did I not follow the star that led the wise men to a poor abode? I am here to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance that I have procured for you, Ebenezer. You always were a good friend to me, Jacob. Thank you. You will be haunted by three spirits.

Is that the only chance and hope, Jacob? It is your only chance and hope. Well, then I think I'd rather not. Without their visits, you cannot hold the power of victory. Expect the first tomorrow When the bell tolls one Couldn't I take them all at once And have it over? Ebenezer For your own sake Remember what has passed between us Behold my fellow beings We ache to intercede For good in your world But cannot We witness what we cannot share What might have shared on earth and turned to happiness, look to see me no more, and remember, look for the first spirit when the bell tolls, what? Harry, take a party.

Scrooge tried to say humbug, but could not, and quite fatigued by emotions rare to him, and glimpses of other worlds and the lateness of the hour, he stumbled to his bed and fell instantly asleep. Scrooge awoke. He was lying on his bed fully dressed. Suddenly, the curtains of his bed were drawn aside and Scrooge found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them, as close to it as I am now to you. And I am standing in the spirit at your elbow It was a strange figure, like a child Yet not so like a child as like an old man Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back Was white, as if with age And yet the face had not a wrinkle on it And the tenderest bloom was on the skin It wore a tunic of the purest white And carried beneath its arm a tall, cone-shaped hat

Like a wizard's And from its very face and figure shone a bright, clear light Ebenezer Scrooge Are you the spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold me? I am that spirit What are you? I am the ghost of Christmas past Long past? No, your past What brings you here to haunt me? Your welfare, Ebenezer Scrooge I see you look upon my cap it is men such as you who force it low upon my brow to shut out the light I would give them rise and walk with me not out the window I can't do that I'm not a spirit I'm mortal and I'll fall bear but a touch of my hand upon your heart, and you shall be upheld in more than this. Come, follow me. What's become of the city? There's snow upon the ground. Where are we?

These are the shadows of the things that have been. Do you recognize this countryside? I know every inch of it, every rock and tree. And that bleak building over there. Oh, that building. I was a boy there. I went to school in that terrible place. Do you recollect the path? I could walk it blindfolded. Strange, you should forget it so many years. Come, let us go closer. Look through the window into that cold, barren room. What do you see, Ebenezer Scrooge? One times six is six. Two times six is twelve. I see a boy. A solitary child, neglected by his family, alone. I see. I know that boy. My only friends were in books. I was so lonely. Mother was dead. Poor boy. Your lip is trembling, Scrooge.

And what is that on your cheek? Nothing. I wish I... It's too late now. What's the matter? Nothing. The waifs came to my door singing Christmas carols last night And there was a boy like that among them A poor, thin little boy in a ragged coat I should like to have given him something, that's all Is that all? Come, let us see another Christmas Do you know this place, Ebenezer Scrooge? Know it? This is the counting house where I was a practice Look, it's my old master Bless his heart Old Fezziwig alive again And hosted one of his Christmas parties Yo-ho boys, no more work tonight Christmas Eve, Dick Clear the floor, Ebenezer There's Dick Wilkins He was very much attached to me, was Dick Poor Dick, dear, dear Look, there's Mrs Fezziwig Look at younger than any of them

And look at the tables All loaded with roasts and cider, mince pie and beer. What a jolly time we used to have. Bow and curtsy. Cut through. Red the needle and back to your places. That carefree young man with a light heart and the gay smile. Do you recognize him? Yes, yes. Merciful heaven how happy I was then. A small matter for old Fezziwig to make those silly folks so full of joy. He has spent only a few pounds of your mortal money. Is that so much that he deserves praise? It's not that. It's not that, Spirit. See, old Fezzerwig has the power to make us happy or unhappy, to make our service light or heavy. His power lies in words and looks and things so tiny it's impossible to count him up. The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost... What is the matter? Nothing in particular. Something, I think. No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk, Bob Cratchit. That's all.

Advance and retire! Don't go to thread the needle. Quick, my time grows short and we have yet another journey to make. Where now? Come, Ebenezer. Here in this little room, with a fair young girl by your side. No. Do you recognize yourself, Ebenezer? No, no. Spare me this. You're older now. A man in the prime of life. Your face has begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. No. Your eyes are greedy. The eager, restless eyes of a miser. No, please. She knows it, that girl by your side. There are tears in her eyes. It matters little, Ebenezer, to you. Very little. I know that. Belle, have I changed toward you? When we were engaged, we were both poor. What's it better, then? Better to be poor. Better at least to be happy.

You've changed. You were another man, then. I was a boy. Do you blame me because I've grown wiser in the ways of the world? Have I ever tried to break our engagement? In words, no, never. In what, then? In a changed nature, in an altered spirit, in everything that made my love of any value in your sight. Would you seek to win me now? Belle, I... I release you from your promise. Belle... At first it may cause you pain to lose me. A very brief pain. But soon it will be dim like an unprofitable dream. And you will be glad to be awake from such a dream. May you be happy in the life you have chosen, Ebenezer. For the love of him you once were. Spirit, why do you delight in torturing me? Show me no more. These were the shadows of the things that have been. That they are what they are. Do not blame me. One shadow more. No, I don't wish to see it. No more. Come. Do you see this man, Ebenezer Scrooge? This man might have been you, and the woman beside him, your wife.

And that girl might have been your daughter, Ebenezer Scrooge. She might have called you father. She might have been a springtime in the haggard winter of your life. Spirit, let me go. Take me home. Listen now, while they speak, Ebenezer. Well, I saw an old friend of yours today. Who was it? Yes. How can I? Oh, I know. Mr. Scrooge. Mr. Scrooge, it was. I passed his office window. It wasn't shuttered and there was a candle inside, so I couldn't help seeing him. His partner Molly lies at the point of death, I hear. Oh. And there Scrooge sat all alone, quite alone in the world, I do believe. Spirit, I cannot bear it. Leave me. Haunt me no longer. Take me back! Take me back! Looking upon the ghost, Scrooge was startled to see that it seemed to have taken on something of all the faces it had shown him. In a flash of desperation, he remembered the spirit's cap and his remark about its dampening of his light.

He seized the cap and pressed it down upon the spirit's head like the extinguisher of a candle. The spirit gave no resistance. Scrooge pressed the streaming light down with all his strength. And finding himself in his own bedroom, and once again exhausted, he reeled to his bed and fell into a heavy sleep. Scrooge awakened suddenly and sat bolt upright in his own bed. He remembered the words of Marley's ghost and wondered from which direction the second spectre would appear. At that moment, nothing between a baby and a rhinoceros would have astonished him very much. Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means prepared for nothing. And consequently, when no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came.

Then, as he sat in his bed, he became aware gradually of a great blaze of ruddy light that seemed to shine upon him from the adjoining room. He got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door. It was his own sitting room, no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green That it looked a perfect grove From every part of which bright, gleaming berries glistened And such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney As had never been known in Scrooge's time Or for many and many a winter season gone Heaped upon the floor to form a kind of throne were turkeys, geese, gay poultries, great joints of meat, suckling pigs, long reeds of sausages,

mince pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, and seething bows of punch that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch there sat a jolly giant, glorious to see who bore a glowing torch in shape not unlike plenty's horn and held it up high up to shed its light on scrooge as he came peeping around the door come in nebenezer scrooge come in and know me better man i am the ghost of christmas present look upon me you've never seen the likes of me before i don't believe i have poor pity you've missed over 1800 of my elder brothers not like the first spirit you're almost a giant what is that great torch you carry its light pours into the homes of both rich and poor the poor especially because there it is needed most spirit

take me where you will last time i went against my will and learned a lesson which is working now Now, if you have anything to teach me, let me profit by it. Touch my robe, Ebenezer Scrooge. Where are we going, Spirit? A humble dwelling on a humble street. It's miserable enough. Spirit, I must say this. These poor must work to eat, and your kind would stop them from earning their daily bread on the seventh day of every week. My kind? There are some on this earth of yours who claim to know us and do false deeds in our name who are as strange to us as if they had never lived. Charge them, not us. I hear you, Spirit. Look at the evidence of your own eyes. There is true happiness here. Who are these people? Who's that woman and those children? These are the family of your clerk, Bob Cratchit. See his wife, dressed in a twice-turned gown

but brave with ribbons, laying the table for their Christmas dinner. And there, assisting her, her daughter Belinda. And that young man with the fork and the stuffing. That's Master Peter Cratchit and the two little Cratchits. Listen well, Scrooge. Yes, Martha, Mother. Oh, quiet, children, quiet. Oh, bless your heart, Martha, my dear. Merry Christmas to you. Merry Christmas, Mother. Oh, how late you are, my dear. Oh, we had a great deal of work to finish up last night, and we had to clear away this morning. Oh, well, never mind, so long as you're here now. Sit you down before the fire and have a warm. Lord bless you. Where's Father? He's been to church with Tiny Tim. They'll be on directly. How is Tiny Tim, Mother? Any better at all? Sometimes I think he is and sometimes I think, oh, dear God, if anything should happen to Tiny Tim. Mother, you mustn't even think of such a thing. Here they come, following Tiny Tim. Aye, Mother! Merry Christmas, everybody. Where's our Martha?

Not coming. Not coming? On Christmas Day? Here I am! Merry Christmas, Martha. Oh, Tim, you darling. Oh, Father, I'm so glad to be home. We're so glad to have you, Martha. And I did little Tim behave in church, Bob. Good is gold and better. I like church, Mother. Oh, they sang the nicest songs. I hope people saw me there. Saw you there, and why, Tim? Well, don't you see? Because I am lame, and if they saw my crutch, it might be pleasant for them to remember, and Christmas, who it was, made lame beggars walk, and blind men say... Oh, bless you, my son. Is the goose ready, Mother? Come on, let's eat. Come, take your places now. Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, you, wait your turn. The goose is a bit small, but there's plenty of stuffing and dressing and plum pudding for all of us. Martha, you take care of Tim.

Yes, mother. Make sure the ease plenty must get strong and well. Now, sit down. Sit down, everyone. And now, my dears, shall we say grace? Spirit. Our father. What? Tell me if tiny Tim will live. I see a vacant seat in the chimney corner and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. No, kind spirit. Say he'll be spared. If these shadows remain unaltered by the future, none other of my race will find him here. But what of that? If he be like to die, he'd better do so, and decrease the surplus population. My own words, spirit, that is harsh. Man, if man you be, will you decide who shall live and who shall die? It may be in the sight of heaven that you are less fit to live than millions like this child. Oh, God, to hear the insect on the leaf complaining of the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust.

Amen. Amen. And now, my dears, for such a dinner, a toast. A merry Christmas to us all, and God bless us. God bless us, everyone. And now to Mr. Scrooge. I give you a toast to Mr. Scrooge, the founder of the feast. The founder of the feast, indeed. Who pays you all of 15 shillings a week? I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast on and I'd hope he'd have a good appetite for it too. My dear, the children, Christmas Day. Oh, it should be Christmas Day, I'm sure. On which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, unfeeling man as Mr Scrooge? You know he is, Bob. Nobody knows it better than you, poor fellow. My dear, Christmas Day. Well, I'll drink his health for your sake in the days but not for his long life to him a Merry Christmas and an happy new year he'll be very merry and very happy I have no doubt all right then God bless him and everyone there was nothing of high mark in all this they were not a

handsome family these cratchits they were not well dressed their shoes were Far from being waterproof, their clothes were scanty and had very likely seen the inside of the pawn shop. But they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time. When at last they faded, happier still for the light from the spirit's torch, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last. Many calls Scrooge made that night with the ghost at Christmas present. down among the miners they went to labor in the bowels of the earth and out to sea among the sailors at their watch dark ghostly figures in their several stations much they saw and far they went in many places they visited but always with a happy end the spirits stood beside sick beds and they were cheerful on foreign lands and all was close at home by poverty and it was rich

in arms house hospital and jail where vain man and his little brief authority had not made fast the door and barred the spirit out the spirit left his blessing last of all the ghost saw to it that Scrooge accepted an invitation he had earlier refused. He said that Christmas was a humbug as I lived. Oh, shame on him, Fred. My nephew and his wife? He's a comical old fellow who suffers by his ill whims himself always. On with the game of yes and no. All right, then. What am I thinking of? I tell him. Yes? Lives in the country. No. In London. Yes. A horse. No. An ass. Well... I know, I know. It's your Uncle Scrooge. It was a long night, if it was only a night.

And it was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the ghost grew older, clearly older. My life upon this globe is very brief, Ebenezer. It ends tonight. Tonight? Tonight at midnight. Hark, the hour is drawing near. Before you leave me, spirit, I must ask, what is that I see beneath your robe? A foot? A claw? It may well be a claw, for all the flesh there is on it. Look here, beneath the folds of my robe. Look at this boy and this girl, kneeling at my feet, clinging to my robe. Wretched and miserable, yellow and ragged, with no bloom of youth about their features. Look long and well, Scrooge. They glare at me like hungry wolves. Spirit, are they yours? They are man's. This boy is ignorance. This girl is want. Beware them both.

But most of all, beware this boy. Have they no refuge or resource? Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses? Scrooge looked up to see the ghost, who had vanished, and found himself once more in his bed, in his dressing gown, his nightcap on his head. The clock struck. And he remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley. Lifting up his eyes, he beheld the third spirit. A solemn phantom shrouded in black, draped and hooded, coming towards him slowly and silently, like a mist along the ground. Am I in the presence of the ghost of Christmas yet to come? You'll show me the shadows of things that have not happened but will happen in the time before us Ghost of the future I fear you more than any specter I've seen Yet I know your purpose is to do me good

And as I hope to live, to be another man from what I was Lead on Will you not speak to me? The night's waning fast, the time's precious to me, I know spirit lead on why have you brought me here again here to Bob Cratchit's home but it's not the same why is it so very quiet here mother mother please oh no it's a sorry no it's my eyes oh my son my little son tiny Tim I loved him so Mother dear, you mustn't. It's almost time for Father to be home. Don't let him see you crying. Oh, yes, Martha. Oh, he's late tonight. He walks slower than he used to, and yet I've known him to walk very fast indeed with tiny Tim on his shoulders. So have I, Mother. Oh, but he was light to carry, and his father loved him so that it was no trouble.

No trouble at all. Bob! Good evening, my dear. Oh, you're late, Bob. Yes, I'm sorry, my dear. I went to the churchyard today. I wish you could have gone with me. It would have done your art good to see how sweet and green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I promised him, yes. I promised tiny Tim we'd walk there on a Sunday. Oh, Father, dear. It's God's will, Bob. I'm trying to understand it, my dear. My son, my little son, Tim, I loved him so. Oh, that's cruel, spirit. Can't you give me one ray of hope that I may change all that, that tiny Tim may live? Where have you taken me now? The exchange, spirit? What is there for me to learn here? Who are those men? I don't know much about it either way. I only know he's dead. When did he die? Last night, I believe. It's likely to be a very cheap funeral from upon my life.

I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose you make up a party and volunteer. I don't mind going if lunch is provided. You know, come to think of it, our way Jai was his best friend. What? We used to nod to each other when we met on the street. Where are we now, spirit? I've never even seen this wretched street. I'm cold. What is this place? Are pawnbrokers? Whatever thou then, Mrs. Zoom. who's the worst for the loss of a few things like these if he wanted to keep him after he was dead wicked old screw why wasn't he natural in his lifetime then he'd have had someone to look after him when he was gasping at his last alone by himself it's a judgment on him I expect as for me I always give too much to the ladies it's a weakness of mine and that's the way I room myself Now, you know the system. I'll suit my price, and if you ask me for another penny, I'll repent of being so liberal and knock off off a crown.

Yes, you wait till I own my bundle, Joe. What, you call this, Beckham? That's right, yes, Beckham's is. You don't mean to say you took him down rings and all with him long, then? And why not with such a man as he was? What's your Latin there? Don't spill oil on that shirt. You may look till your eyes ache, but you won't find an hole in it. They'd have wasted it if it hadn't been for me. What did girl waste in it? Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure. Some of us fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. Spirit, I see, I see. The case of that unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way now. What? They're fading. we've traveled again what room is this it's so dark and what is that foul smell

what's that a bed it's bare no curtains i feel a ragged sheet what do you point toward spirit Spirit, a merciful heaven, a body, a corpse, and rats. This is a fearful place. Let us leave it, Spirit. I shall not leave its lesson. Trust me. Spirit, you point toward that poor dead thing. You would have me pull down the sheet to see its face. I would if I could. I have not the power. Oh, spirit, if there is anyone in this town who feels emotion caused by this poor man's death, show that person to me, spirit. I beseech you. Where are we now?

At least it's daylight. Thank God for that. But whose home is this? It's not Cratchit's. Who's that pretty young girl by the fire? Alvin, at last you're home. Hello, my dear. What news do you have of our debt? Is it good or bad? Bad. We are quite ruined. No, there may be hope yet, Caroline. Remember that drunken woman, what she said to me last night when I tried to see him, to see if he would grant a week's grace? What I thought was merely an excuse to avoid me turns out to have been quite true. He was very ill. Do you think he may relent? Nothing is past hope if such a miracle has happened. That miracle has happened. And he is past relenting. He is dead. Alvin! Spirit, I sense that our time is nearly past. Tell me, who is this man that died? Is there no one to mourn the poor creature?

No one to follow him to the grave? Perhaps they'll give him a green grave, at least, like poor Tim. Spirit, where are we now? Oh, merciful heaven, a churchyard, overrun by grass and weeds, choked with too many graves, desolate and lonely, crumbling stones. Spirit, before I draw near to the gravestone to which you point, answer me one question. are these the shadows of things that will be or are they shadows of things that may be only men's courses foreshadow certain ends yes to which they must lead but if the course be departed from the end will change say this is so spirit speak to me very well

I will read the writing on the stone the name on the gravestone is Ebenezer Scrooge Ebenezer Scrooge No, no spirit No, no, no Hear me I am not the man I was Why show me this if I'm past all hope Tell me I can change these dreadful shadows That you've shown me by an altered life I'll honor Christmas in my heart I'll try to keep it all the year I'll live with the past The present and the future I'll not shut out the lessons that they teach. Tell me, spirit. Tell me that I may sponge away the writing on that stone. Spirit, I take your hand. I promise on my knees. I promise. I promise. I What's this? It's my own bedpost. I'm home

in my own room. The bed curtains are torn down and the sun is shining. it's clear it's bright no fog a beautiful day oh glorious glorious oh boy oh yeah yes sir what's today and what day is it my fine fella today why it's christmas day sir christmas day i haven't missed it the spirits have done it all in one night of course they can do anything they like Thank you, spirits. Thank you, heaven. Thank you, Jacob. How's that? Listen, my lad, do you know the poulterer in the next street? I should say I do. Oh, an intelligent boy. A remarkable boy. Tell me, do you know if they sold the prized turkey that was hanging in the window? The one as big as me. What a delightful boy. It's a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck. Well, it's hanging there now, sir. Wonderful. Now you go around, will you?

and tell them to send it to Bob Cratchit and his family on Broad Street. And mind you, they're not to know who paid for it. Go along. Do it in five minutes, I'll give you a shilling. Yes, sir. Do it in less, I'll give you half a crock. Yes, sir. And then a Merry Christmas to you, sir. And a Merry Christmas to you, boy. I don't know what to do. I'm light as a feather. I'm happy as an angel. I'm merry as a schoolboy. No, a baby. I don't care. I am a baby. Merry Christmas to everybody! Happy New Year to the whole world! Woo-hoo! Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, sir. My dear sir, how do you do? I beg your pardon. Well, you, sir, aren't you the gentleman who came to my office in regard to that charity? Mr. Scrooge. I'm sorry, my name is not pleasant to you.

A merry Christmas to you. Yes, sir. Allow me to ask your pardon, sir. And will you have the goodness to accept... I prefer to whisper this. Lord, bless me, my dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious? If you please. Now, not a farthing less. A great many back payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favor? My dear sir, I don't know what to say. There's such generosity. Don't say anything, please. I can't speak now. I must keep an engagement. But come and see me. Will you come and see me? I will, indeed. Oh, thank you. I'm much obliged to you. I thank you 50 times. Bless you. Merry Christmas to you. Merry Christmas. Just a moment. yes sir good afternoon my dear I don't believe you know me I am Fred Fred I've come to dinner will you let me in friend let you in

Merry Christmas our nephew don't shake my arm off it's unused to this type of greeting it was a wonderful party wonderful games wonderful fellowship wonderful late night of it but the next morning Scrooge was early in his office he went early for a reason if he could only be there fast and catch Bob Cratchit coming late that was the thing he'd set his heart upon and he did it the clock struck nine no bob a quarter past no bob scrooge sat with his door wide open that he might see him come in at last he came his hat was off before he opened the door his comforter too he was on his stool in a jiffy driving away with his pen as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock Hello, you there.

Gratchit? Yes, sir. Step this way, if you please, Gratchit. What do you mean by coming in at this time of day? Oh, I'm very sorry, sir. I am behind my time. You are? Yes, I think you are. It's only once a year, Mr. Scrooge. It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir. I'll tell you what, my friend. And I'll not stand this sort of thing any longer. But, sir... And therefore, Bob Cratchit, I'm about to raise your salary. Mr. Scrooge, are you quite yourself, sir? No, thank heaven I'm not quite myself. A merry Christmas, Bob. A merry Christmas, my good fellow, that I've given you in many a year. I shall raise your salary And we'll see what we can do for Tiny Tim And the rest of your family We'll discuss it all this very afternoon Over our Christmas bowl of steaming punch

Yes Come on, make up the fire Yes And you buy another coal scuttle Before you got an eye, Bob Cratchit Scrooge was better than his word He did it all and infinitely more To Tiny Tim who did not die He was a second father He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little he did them. His own heart laughed. That was quite enough for him. He had no further intercourse with spirits, but lived upon the total abstinence principle ever afterwards. And it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well. If any man alive possessed the knowledge, may that be truly said of us, of all of us. And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, everyone.

Good Christian men rejoice with heart and soul and voice. Now ye need not fear the grave, peace, peace, Jesus Christ was born to save. Calls you one and calls you all to gain his everlasting hope. Christ was born to save, Christ was born to save. This is Craig Wickman, stepping out of the character of Scrooge, to thank you for helping us to recreate Dickens' London out of thin air. Our cast, in order of appearance, Anthony Cinelli, John Prave, Joseph Franchini, Tony Scheinman, Deborah Barta, Ghislaine Nichols, Jody Botello, and Elizabeth Stull. The music was by Mark Holman and the sound by Dave Nolan and Clyde Baldo.

I adapted and produced the story for radio and our director was Jay Stern. Special thanks to Max Schmeid of WBAI, Pastor Brooke Swertfager of Christ Lutheran Church, Bernadette Fiorella-Wickman, and William Rogers. Thanks again for listening, and until we meet again... Merry Christmas! God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day. To save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy. From God our Heavenly Father a blessed angel came. And unto certain shepherds brought tidings of the same. How that in Bethlehem was born the Son of God by name. Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy Thank you. ¶¶

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ORGAN PLAYS Thank you.