presents!<\/h6>\n

Gift Giving<\/h2>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_3,2_3″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”1_3″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/12tide.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/10\/1-2.png” title_text=”1″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”]

Give one or two of your “biggest” gifts to the other people in your family or community who are celebrating <\/span><\/span>Twelvetide<\/span> with you.\u202f\u202f<\/span><\/span><\/span>\u00a0<\/span>
<\/span><\/span>\u00a0<\/span>
<\/span>Stockings full of candy, small gifts, pieces of fruit, etc.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0<\/span>
<\/span><\/span>\u00a0<\/span>
<\/span>NO CASH OPTION: Create a board game or card game for someone else and play it with them at some point during the day.<\/span><\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_id=”literature” _builder_version=”4.18.0″ header_2_font=”Bellefair||||||||” header_2_text_color=”#000000″ header_2_font_size=”48px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_6_font=”Montserrat|700||on|||||” header_6_text_color=”#ff4e00″ header_6_font_size=”12px” header_6_letter_spacing=”2px” header_6_line_height=”1.2em” text_orientation=”center” max_width=”700px” module_alignment=”center” header_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|desktop” header_6_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_6_font_size_phone=”34px” header_6_font_size_last_edited=”off|phone” text_text_align=”justify” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}” header_2_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_3_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_4_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_5_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_6_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_2_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_3_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_4_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_5_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_6_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_2_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_3_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_4_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_5_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_6_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_2_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_3_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_4_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_5_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_6_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_2_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_3_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_4_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_5_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_6_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_2_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_3_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_4_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_5_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_6_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_2_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_3_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_4_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_5_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_6_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_2_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_3_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_4_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_5_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_6_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_2_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_3_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_4_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_5_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_6_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_2_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_3_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_4_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_5_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_6_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_2_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_3_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_4_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_5_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_6_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet”]

A CHRISTMAS CAROL: CHRISTMAS PRESENT<\/h6>\n

Literature<\/h2>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][dsm_floating_multi_images floating_speed=”7208ms” _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” min_height=”262px” global_colors_info=”{}”][dsm_floating_multi_images_child src=”https:\/\/12tide.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/12\/Cratchit-Christmas-dinner.jpeg” horizontal_align=”19%” vertical_align=”-1%” _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” background_enable_color=”off” background_enable_image=”off” width=”100%” max_width=”58%” max_width_tablet=”29%” max_width_phone=”88%” max_width_last_edited=”on|phone” min_height=”298px” height=”688px” max_height=”1000px” global_colors_info=”{}”][\/dsm_floating_multi_images_child][\/dsm_floating_multi_images][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-158px|auto||auto||” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.18.0″ _module_preset=”default” min_height=”100px” custom_padding=”1px|||||” dsm_modules_readmore=”on” global_colors_info=”{}”]

From Stave 3 of A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens, the most famous work of literature to do with Christmas.\u202f In the scene below, Ebenezer Scrooge and the merry Ghost of Christmas Present are seeing how the first day of Christmas is celebrated by a number of different people in different stations of life.\u202f It is a fairly secular work, but I have chosen it for the way it weaves together merriment, concern for the downtrodden, and veneration of Christ.\u202f The excerpt here begins as the Ghost takes Scrooge to visit his employee, Bob Cratchit’s, house. <\/em><\/p>\n

It was a remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker\u2019s), that notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any place with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could have done in any lofty hall.<\/p>\n

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge\u2019s clerk\u2019s; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit\u2019s dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch. Think of that. Bob had but fifteen bob a-week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house.<\/p>\n

Then up rose Mrs Cratchit, Cratchit\u2019s 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 Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob\u2019s private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker\u2019s they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat has ever got your precious father then?\u201d said Mrs Cratchit. \u201cAnd your brother, Tiny Tim; And Martha warn\u2019t as late last Christmas Day by half-an-hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s Martha, mother,\u201d said a girl, appearing as she spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s Martha, mother!\u201d cried the two young Cratchits. \u201cHurrah! There\u2019s such a goose, Martha!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!\u201d said Mrs Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019d a deal of work to finish up last night,\u201d replied the girl, \u201cand had to clear away this morning, mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell. Never mind so long as you are come,\u201d said Mrs Cratchit. \u201cSit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no. There\u2019s father coming,\u201d cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. \u201cHide, Martha, hide!\u201d<\/p>\n

So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, where\u2019s our Martha?\u201d cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot coming,\u201d said Mrs Cratchit.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot coming!\u201d said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; for he had been Tim\u2019s blood horse all the way from church, and had come home rampant. \u201cNot coming upon Christmas Day?\u201d<\/p>\n

Martha didn\u2019t like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd how did little Tim behave?\u201d asked Mrs Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart\u2019s content.<\/p>\n

\u201cAs good as gold,\u201d said Bob, \u201cand better. Somehow he gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bob\u2019s voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.<\/p>\n

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs \u2013 as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby \u2013 compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession.<\/p>\n

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course \u2013 and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped.<\/p>\n

At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!<\/p>\n

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn\u2019t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn\u2019t ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left the room alone \u2013 too nervous to bear witnesses \u2013 to take the pudding up and bring it in.<\/p>\n

Suppose it should not be done enough? Suppose it should break in turning out? Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose \u2013 a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid? All sorts of horrors were supposed.<\/p>\n

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day. That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook\u2019s next door to each other, with a laundress\u2019s next door to that. That was the pudding. In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered \u2013 flushed, but smiling proudly \u2013 with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.<\/p>\n

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.<\/p>\n

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit\u2019s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.<\/p>\n

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:<\/p>\n

\u201cA Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us.\u201d Which all the family re-echoed.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod bless us every one!\u201d said Tiny Tim, the last of all.<\/p>\n

He sat very close to his father\u2019s side upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSpirit,\u201d said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before,\u201d tell me if Tiny Tim will live.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see a vacant seat,\u201d replied the Ghost, \u201cin the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no,\u201d said Scrooge. \u201cOh, no, kind Spirit. Say he will be spared.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,\u201d returned the Ghost, \u201cwill find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.\u201d<\/p>\n

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.<\/p>\n

\u201cMan,\u201d said the Ghost, \u201cif 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 millions like this poor man\u2019s child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust.\u201d<\/p>\n

Scrooge bent before the Ghost\u2019s rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr Scrooge!\u201d said Bob; \u201cI\u2019ll give you Mr Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Founder of the Feast indeed!\u201d cried Mrs Cratchit, reddening. \u201cI wish I had him here. I\u2019d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he\u2019d have a good appetite for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dear,\u201d said Bob, \u201cthe children. Christmas Day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt should be Christmas Day, I am sure,\u201d said she, \u201con which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr Scrooge. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dear,\u201d was Bob\u2019s mild answer, \u201cChristmas Day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll drink his health for your sake and the Day\u2019s,\u201d said Mrs Cratchit, \u201cnot for his. Long life to him. A merry Christmas and a happy new year! \u2013 he\u2019ll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!\u201d<\/p>\n

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but he didn\u2019t care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full five minutes.<\/p>\n

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter\u2019s being a man of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner\u2019s, then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord was much about as tall as Peter; at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you couldn\u2019t have seen his head if you had been there. All this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and by-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.<\/p>\n

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawnbroker\u2019s. But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit\u2019s torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last.<\/p>\n

By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire, and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There all the children of the house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them. Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near neighbour\u2019s house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them enter \u2013 artful witches, well they knew it \u2013 in a glow.<\/p>\n

But, if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high.<\/p>\n

Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted. How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach. The very lamplighter, who ran on before dotting the dusky street with specks of light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed, though little kenned the lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas.<\/p>\n

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed \u2013 or would have done so, but for the frost that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat place is this?\u201d asked Scrooge.<\/p>\n

\u201cA place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,\u201d returned the Spirit.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut they know me. See.\u201d<\/p>\n

A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and woman, with their children and their children\u2019s children, and another generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song \u2013 it had been a very old song when he was a boy \u2013 and from time to time they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank again.<\/p>\n

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and passing on above the moor, sped \u2013 whither. Not to sea? To sea. To Scrooge\u2019s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled and roared, and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.<\/p>\n

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of sea-weed clung to its base, and storm-birds \u2013 born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the water \u2013 rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.
But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be: struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.<\/p>\n

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea \u2013 on, on \u2013 until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.<\/p>\n

It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognise it as his own nephew\u2019s and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability.<\/p>\n

\u201cHa, ha!\u201d laughed Scrooge\u2019s nephew. \u201cHa, ha, ha!\u201d<\/p>\n

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest in a laugh than Scrooge\u2019s nephew, all I can say is, I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I\u2019ll cultivate his acquaintance.<\/p>\n

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge\u2019s nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge\u2019s niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily.<\/p>\n

\u201cHa, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!\u201d cried Scrooge\u2019s nephew. \u201cHe believed it too.\u201d
…
After tea they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it. Scrooge\u2019s niece played well upon the harp; and played among other tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more; and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands, without resorting to the sexton\u2019s spade that buried Jacob Marley.<\/p>\n

But they didn\u2019t devote the whole evening to music. After a while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.<\/p>[\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”Comments” _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_padding=”0px|||||” saved_tabs=”all” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.16″ min_height=”257.5px” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_text module_id=”scripture” _builder_version=”4.18.0″ header_2_font=”Bellefair||||||||” header_2_text_color=”#000000″ header_2_font_size=”48px” header_2_line_height=”1.2em” header_6_font=”Montserrat|700||on|||||” header_6_text_color=”#ff4e00″ header_6_font_size=”12px” header_6_letter_spacing=”2px” header_6_line_height=”1.2em” text_orientation=”center” max_width=”700px” module_alignment=”center” hover_enabled=”0″ header_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|desktop” header_6_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_6_font_size_phone=”34px” header_6_font_size_last_edited=”off|phone” text_text_align=”justify” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}” header_2_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_3_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_4_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_5_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_6_2_font_size_tablet=”42px” header_2_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_3_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_4_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_5_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_6_2_font_size_phone=”34px” header_2_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_3_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_4_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_5_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_6_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_2_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_3_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_4_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_5_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_6_3_font_size_tablet=”34px” header_2_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_3_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_4_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_5_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_6_3_font_size_phone=”28px” header_2_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_3_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_4_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_5_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_6_3_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_2_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_3_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_4_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_5_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_6_4_font_size_tablet=”22px” header_2_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_3_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_4_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_5_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_6_4_font_size_phone=”18px” header_2_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_3_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_4_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_5_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_6_4_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” header_2_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_3_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_4_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_5_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_6_5_font_size_phone=”16px” header_2_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_3_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_4_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_5_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_6_5_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” sticky_enabled=”0″]