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have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman’s hand,was not to be resisted. He rose: but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped his robe in supplication.
    â€˜I am mortal,’ Scrooge remonstrated, ‘and liable to fall.’
    â€˜Bear but a touch of my hand there,’ said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart,’ and you shall be upheld in more than this.’
    As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.
    â€˜Good Heaven!’ said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him. ‘I was bred in this place. I was a boy here.’
    The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man’s sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten.
    â€˜Your lip is trembling,’ said the Ghost. ‘And what is that upon your cheek.’
    Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.
    â€˜You recollect the way.’ inquired the Spirit.
    â€˜Remember it.’ cried Scrooge with fervour; ‘I could walk it blindfold.’
    â€˜Strange to have forgotten it for so many years.’ observed the Ghost. ‘Let us go on.’
    They walked along the road, Scrooge recognising every gate, and post, and tree; until a little market-town appeared in the distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river. Some shaggy ponies now were seen trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other boys in country gigs and carts, driven by farmers. All these boys were in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
    â€˜These are but shadows of the things that have been,’ said the Ghost. ‘They have no consciousness of us.’
    The jocund travellers came on; and as they came, Scrooge knew and named them every one. Why washe rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them. Why did his cold eye glisten, and his heart leap up as they went past. Why was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted at cross-roads and bye-ways, for their several homes. What was merry Christmas to Scrooge. Out upon merry Christmas. What good had it ever done to him.
    â€˜The school is not quite deserted,’ said the Ghost. ‘A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.’
    Scrooge said he knew it. And he sobbed.
    They left the high-road, by a well-remembered lane, and soon approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock-surmounted cupola, on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was a large house, but one of broken fortunes; for the spacious offices were little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows broken, and their gates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables; and the coach-houses and sheds were over-run with grass. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within; for entering the dreary hall, and glancing through the open doors of many rooms, they found them poorly furnished, cold, and vast. There was anearthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candle-light, and