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THESECONDOFTHETHREESPIRITS
Awakinginthemiddleofaprodigiouslytoughsnore，andsittingupinbedtogethisthoughtstogether，Scroogehadnooccasiontobetoldthatthebellwasagainuponthestrokeofone.Hefeltthathewasrestoredtoconsciousnessintherightnickoftime，fortheespecialpurposeofholdingaconferencewiththesecondmessengerdespatchedtohimthroughJacobMarley’sintervention.But，findingthatheturneduncomfortablycoldwhenhebegantowonderwhichofhiscurtainsthisnewspectrewoulddrawback，heputthemeveryoneasidewithhisownhands，andlyingdownagain，establishedagoodlook-outallroundthebed；forhewishedtochallengethespiritonthemomentofitsappearance，anddidnotwishtobetakenbysurprise，andmadenervous.
Gentlemenofthefree-and-easysort，whoplumethemselvesonbeingacquaintedwithamoveortwo，andbeingusuallyequaltothetime-of-day，expressthewiderangeoftheircapacityforadventurebyobservingthattheyaregoodforanythingfrompitch-and-tosstomanslaughter；betweenwhichoppositeextremes，nodoubt，thereliesatolerablywideandcomprehensiverangeofsubjects.WithoutventuringforScroogequiteashardilyasthis，Idon’tmindcallingonyoutobelievethathewasreadyforagoodbroadfieldofstrangeappearances，andthatnothingbetweenababyandrhinoceroswouldhaveastonishedhimverymuch.
Now，beingpreparedforalmostanything，hewasnotbyanymeanspreparedfornothing；and，consequently，whenthebellstruckone，andnoshapeappeared，hewastakenwithaviolentfitoftrembling.Fiveminutes，tenminutes，aquarterofanhourwentby，yetnothingcame.Allthistime，helayuponhisbed，theverycoreandcentreofablazeofruddylight，whichstreameduponitwhentheclockproclaimedthehour；andwhich，beingonlylight，wasmorealarmingthanadozenghosts，ashewaspowerlesstomakeoutwhatitmeant，orwouldbeat；andwassometimesapprehensivethathemightbeatthatverymomentaninterestingcaseofspontaneouscombustion，withouthavingtheconsolationofknowingit.Atlast，however，hebegantothink—asyouorIwouldhavethoughtatfirst；foritisalwaysthepersonnotinthepredicamentwhoknowswhatoughttohavebeendoneinit，andwouldunquestionablyhavedoneittoo—atlastIsay，hebegantothinkthatthesourceandsecretofthisghostlylightmightbeintheadjoiningroom，fromwhence，onfurthertracingit，itseemedtoshine.Thisideatakingfullpossessionofhismind，hegotupsoftlyandshuffledinhisslipperstothedoor.
ThemomentScroogeshandwasonthelock，astrangevoicecalledhimbyhisname，andbadehimenter.Heobeyed.
ItwashisownrooTherewasnodoubtaboutthat.Butithadundergoneasurprisingtransformation.Thewallsandceilingweresohungwithlivinggreen，thatitlookedaperfectgrove；fromeverypartofwhich，brightgleamingberriesglistened.Thecrispleavesofholly，mistletoe，andivyreflectedbackthelight，asifsomanylittlemirrorshadbeenscatteredthere；andsuchamightyblazewentroaringupthechimney，asthatdullpetrifactionofahearthhadneverknowninScrooge’stime，orMarley’s，orformanyandmanyawinterseasongone.Heapeduponthefloor，toformakindofthrone，wereturkeys，geese，game，poultry，brawn，greatjointsofmeat，sucking-pigs，longwreathsofsausages，mince-pies，plum-pud-dings，barrelsofoysters，red-hotchestnuts，cherry-cheekedapples，juicyoranges，lusciouspears，immensetwelfth-cakes，andseethingbowlsofpunch，thatmadethechamberdimwiththeirdelicioussteaIneasystateuponthiscouch，theresatajollygiant，glorioustosee；whoboreaglowingtorch，inshapenotunlikePlenty’shorn，andhelditup，highup，tosheditslightonScrooge，ashecamepeepingroundthedoor.
“Comein！”
exclaimedtheghost.“Comein！
andknowmebetter，man！”
Scroogeenteredtimidly，andhunghisheadbeforethisspirit.HewasnotthedoggedScroogehehadbeen；andthoughthespirit’seyeswereclearandkind，hedidnotliketomeetthe
“IamtheGhostofChristmasPresent，”
saidthespirit.“Lookuponme！”
Scroogereverentlydidso.Itwasclothedinonesimple，deep-greenrobe，ormantle，borderedwithwhitefur.Thisgarmenthungsolooselyonthefigure，thatitscapaciousbreastwasbare，asifdisdainingtobewardedorconcealedbyanyartifice.Itsfeet，observablebeneaththeamplefoldsofthegarment，werealsobare；andonitsheaditworenoothercoveringthanahollywreath，sethereandtherewithshiningicicles.Itsdark-browncurlswerelongandfree；freeasitsgenialface，itssparklingeye，itsopenhand，itscheeryvoice，itsunconstraineddemeanour，anditsjoyfulair.Girdedrounditsmiddlewasanantiquescabbard；butnoswordwasinit，andtheancientsheathwaseatenupwithrust.
“Youhaveneverseenthelikeofmebefore！”
exclaimedthespirit.
“Never，Scroogemadeanswertoit.
“Haveneverwalkedforthwiththeyoungermembersofmyfamily；meaning（forIamveryyoung）myelderbrothersbornintheselateryears？”
pursuedthephanto
“Idon’tthinkIhave，”
saidScrooge.“IamafraidIhavenot.Haveyouhadmanybrothers，spirit？”
“Morethaneighteenhundred，”
saidtheghost.
“Atremendousfamilytoprovidefor！”
mutteredScrooge.
TheGhostofChristmasPresentrose.
“Spirit，”
saidScroogesubmissively，“conductmewhereyouwill.Iwentforthlastnightoncompulsion，andIlearnedalessonwhichisworkingnow.To-night，ifyouhaveaughttoteachme，letmeprofitbyit.”
“Touchmyrobe！”
Scroogedidashewastold，andhelditfast.
Holly，mistletoe，redberries，ivy，turkeys，geese，game，poultry，brawn，meat，pigs，sausages，oysters，pies，puddings，fruit，andpunch，allvanishedinstantly.Sodidtheroom，thefire，theruddyglow，thehourofnight，andtheystoodinthecitystreetsonChristmasmorning，where（fortheweatherwassevere）thepeoplemadearough，butbriskandnotunpleasant，kindofmusic，inscrapingthesnowfromthepavementinfrontoftheirdwellings，andfromthetopsoftheirhouses，whenceitwasmaddelighttotheboystoseeitcomeplumpingdownintotheroadbelow，andsplittingintoartificiallittlesnow-storms.
Thehousefrontslookedblackenough，andthewindowsblacker，contrastingwiththesmoothwhitesheetofsnowupontheroofs，andwiththedirtiersnowupontheground；whichlastdeposithadbeenploughedupindeepfurrowsbytheheavywheelsofcartsandwagons；furrowsthatcrossedandrecrossedeachotherhundredsoftimeswherethegreatstreetsbranehedoff；andmadeintricatechannels，hardtotrace，inthethickyellowmudandicywater.Theskywasgloomy，andtheshorteststreetswerechokedupwithadingymist，halfthawed，halffrozen，whoseheavierparticlesdescendedinashowerofsootyatoms，asifallthechimneysinGreatBritainhad，byoneconsent，caughtfire，andwereblazingawaytotheirdearhearts，content.Therewasnothingverycheerfulintheclimateorthetown，andyettherewasanairofcheerfulnessabroadthattheclearestsummerairandbrightestsummersunmighthaveendeavouredtodiffuseinvain.
Forthepeoplewhowereshovellingawayonthehousetopswerejovialandfullofglee；callingouttooneanotherfromtheparapets，andnowandthenexchangingafacetioussnow-ball—better-naturedmissilefarthanmanyawordyjest—laughingheartilyifitwentright，andnotlessheartilyifitwentwrong.Thepoulterers’shopswerestillhalfopen，andthefruiterers’wereradiantintheirglory.Thereweregreat，round，potbelliedbasketsofchestnuts，shapedlikethewaistcoatsofjollyoldgentlemen，lollingatthedoors，andtumblingoutintothestreetintheirapoplecticopulence.Therewereruddy，brown-faced，broad-girthedSpanishonions，shininginthefatnessoftheirgrowthlikeSpanishfriars，andwinkingfromtheirshelvesinwantonslynessatthegirlsastheywentby，andglanceddemurelyatthehung-upmistletoe.Therewerepearsandapples，clusteredhighinbloomingpyramids；therewerebunchesofgrapes，made，intheshopkeepers，benevolence，todanglefromconspicuoushooks，thatpeople’smouthsmightwatergratisastheypassed；therewerepilesoffilberts，mossyandbrown，recalling，intheirfragrance，ancientwalksamongthewoods，andpleasantshufflingsankle-deepthroughwitheredleaves；therewereNorfolkbiffins，squabandswarthy，settingofftheyellowoftheorangesandlemons，and，inthegreatcompactnessoftheirjuicypersons，urgentlyentreatingandbeseechingtobecarriedhomeinpaper-bagsandeatenafterdinner.Theverygoldandsilverfish，setforthamongthesechoicefruitsinabowl，thoughmembersofadullandstagnant-bloodedrace，appearedtoknowthattherewassomethinggoingon；and，toafish，wentgaspingroundandroundtheirlittleworldinslowandpassionlessexcitement.
Thegrocers’！
oh，thegrocers’！
nearlyclosed，withperhapstwoshuttersdown，orone；butthroughthosegapssuchglimpses！
Itwasnotalonethatthescalesdescendingonthecountermadeamerrysound，orthatthetwineandrollerpartedcompanysobriskly，orthatthecanisterswererattledupanddownlikejugglingtricks，oreventhattheblendedscentsofteaandcoffeeweresogratefultothenose，oreventhattheraisinsweresoplentifulandrare，thealmondssoextremelywhite，thesticksofcinnamonsolongandstraight，theotherspicessodelicious，thecandiedfruitssocakedandspottedwithmoltensugarastomakethecoldestlookers-onfeelfaintandsubsequentlybilious.Norwasitthatthefigsweremoistandpulpy，orthattheFrenchplumsblushedinmodesttartnessfromtheirhighlydecoratedboxes，orthateverythingwasgoodtoeatandinitsChristmasdress.Butthecustomerswereallsohurriedandsoeagerinthehopefulpromiseoftheday，thattheytumbledupagainsteachotheratthedoor，crashingtheirwickerbasketswildly，andlefttheirpurchasesuponthecounter，andcamerunningbacktofetchthem，andcommittedhundredsofthelikemistakes，inthebesthumourpossible；whilethegrocerandhispeopleweresofrankandfreshthatthepolishedheartswithwhichtheyfastenedtheirapronsbehindmighthavebeentheirown，wornoutsideforgeneralinspection，andforChristmasdawstopeckatiftheychose.
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