A Christmas carol . foldings of its robe, it brought ^two children ; wretched, abject, frightful, ^hideous, miserable. They knelt down at itsfeet, and clung upon the outside of its garment. Oh, Man ! look here. Look, look, downhere ! exclaimed the Ghost. They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre,ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too,in their humility. Where graceful youth shouldhave filled their features out, and touchedthem with its freshest tints, a stale andshrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched,and twisted them, and pulled them intoshreds. Where angels might have satenthrone
A Christmas carol . foldings of its robe, it brought ^two children ; wretched, abject, frightful, ^hideous, miserable. They knelt down at itsfeet, and clung upon the outside of its garment. Oh, Man ! look here. Look, look, downhere ! exclaimed the Ghost. They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre,ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too,in their humility. Where graceful youth shouldhave filled their features out, and touchedthem with its freshest tints, a stale andshrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched,and twisted them, and pulled them intoshreds. Where angels might have satenthroned, devils lurked, and glared outmenacing. No change, no degradation, noperversion of humanity, in any grade, throughall the mysteries of wonderful creation, hasmonsters half so horrible and dread. Scrooge started back, appalled. Havingthem shown to him in this way, he tried tosay they were fine children, but the wordschoked themselves, rather than be parties to alie of such enormous magnitude. 113 B Cbrtstmas Carol. ** Spirit ! are they yours ? Scrooge couldsay no more. They are Mans, said the Spirit, lookingdown upon them. And they cling to me,appealing from their fathers. This boy isIgnorance. This girl is Want. Beware themboth, and all of their degree, but most of allbeware this boy, for on his brow 1 see thatwritten which is Doom, unless the writing beerased. Deny it ! cried the Spirit, stretchingout its hand towards the city. Slanderthose who tell it ye ! Admit it for yourfactious purposes, and make it worse ! Andbide the end ! Have they no refuge or resource ? criedScrooge. Are there no prisons? said the Spirit,turning on him for the last time with hisown words. Are there no work-houses ? The bell struck twelve. Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost,and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased tovibrate, he remembered the prediction of oldJacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld asolemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming,like a mist along the ground, towards him. 114
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