92445,WindhelmWorld,FULL,0,ウィンドヘルム
92044,WindhelmWhitePhial,FULL,0,ホワイトファイアル
92037,WindhelmTempleofTalos,FULL,0,タロスの聖堂
92028,WindhelmPalaceoftheKings,FULL,0,王の宮殿
92041,WindhelmCandlehearthHall,FULL,0,キャンドルハース・ホール
107119,WhiterunWorld,FULL,0,ホワイトラン
121678,WhiterunWarmaidens,FULL,0,戦乙女の炉
91559,WhiterunTempleofKynareth,FULL,0,キナレス聖堂
91575,WhiterunDrunkenHuntsman,FULL,0,酔いどれハンツマン
91571,WhiterunBelethorsGeneralGoods,FULL,0,ベレソア一般雑貨店
90206,WhiterunBanneredMare,FULL,0,バナード・メア
91574,WhiterunArcadiasCauldron,FULL,0,アルカディアの大ガマ
60,Tamriel,FULL,0,スカイリム
229087,SolitudeWorld,FULL,0,ソリチュード
92686,SolitudeWinkingSkeever,FULL,0,ウィンキング・スキーヴァー
92674,SolitudeTempleoftheDivines,FULL,0,神々の聖堂
92687,SolitudeRadiantRaiment,FULL,0,レディアント装具店
92670,SolitudeFletcher,FULL,0,フレッチャー
92688,SolitudeBitsandPieces,FULL,0,ビッツ・アンド・ピーセズ
92689,SolitudeAngelinesAromatics,FULL,0,アンジェリンズ・アロマティクス
78793,RiverwoodRiverwoodTrader,FULL,0,リバーウッド・トレーダー
93108,RiftenWorld,FULL,0,リフテン
93143,RiftenTempleofMara,FULL,0,マーラの聖堂
93145,RiftenPawnedPrawn,FULL,0,プローン質屋
93134,RiftenElgrimsElixirs,FULL,0,エルグリム・エリクシル
93148,RiftenBlackBriarMeadery,FULL,0,ブラック・ブライアのハチミツ酒醸造所
93151,RiftenBeeandBarb,FULL,0,ビー・アンド・バルブ
80075,MorthalThaumaturgistsHut,FULL,0,魔術師の小屋
80078,MorthalMoorsideInn,FULL,0,宿屋「ムーアサイド」
93553,MarkarthWorld,FULL,0,マルカルス
93694,MarkarthSilverBloodInn,FULL,0,宿屋「シルバーブラッド」
93687,MarkarthShrineofTalos,FULL,0,タロスの祠
93686,MarkarthHagsCure,FULL,0,ハグズキュア
93695,MarkarthArnleifandSonsTradingCompany,FULL,0,アーンリーフ・アンド・サンズ貿易会社
80502,FalkreathGrayPineGoods,FULL,0,グレイ・パイン・グッズ
237955,FalkreathGraveConcoctions,FULL,0,グレイブ調合薬店
237956,FalkreathDeadMansDrink,FULL,0,宿屋「デッドマンズ・ドリンク」
80511,DawnstarWindpeakInn,FULL,0,宿屋「ウィンドピーク」
80518,DawnstarMortarandPestle,FULL,0,乳鉢と乳棒
50483105,_WetHWitchesLS,DESC,0,魔術に傾倒する者たちは、魔女祭(降霜の月の13日)になると文明を離れ、彼らの集会を開く。大抵、参列者は争いに興味が無い。こちらから刺激でもせぬ限りは。
50413135,_WetHWitchesFestivalNote,FULL,0,奇妙なメモ
50408771,_WetHWeatherScript,FULL,0,Weather Script
50408771,_WetHWeatherScript,DNAM,0,
50413136,_WetHWarriorsFestivalNote,FULL,0,戦士祭のチラシ
50413134,_WetHTalesTallowsNote,FULL,0,黄泉返りの日のチラシ
50498717,_WetHTalesTallowsLS,DESC,0,黄泉帰りの日(薪木の月の3日)の夜を練り歩く死者たちは、それらを追い払う意味合いの装飾を模した仮面を身につけた者たちである。
50413132,_WetHSunsRestNote,FULL,0,日没感謝祭のチラシ
50411745,_WetHSouthWindsFoLNote,FULL,0,行事予定表(暁星の月)
50484486,_WetHSkeletonScript,FULL,0,Skeleton Script
50484486,_WetHSkeletonScript,DNAM,0,
50413129,_WetHSecondPlantingNote,FULL,0,第二種蒔き祭のチラシ
50413138,_WetHSaturaliaNote,FULL,0,サトゥラリアのチラシ
50597997,_WetHSaturaliaNightBook,FULL,0,Twas the Night Before Saturalia
50522671,_WetHSaturaliaLS,DESC,0,サトゥラリア(星霜の月の25日)の夜は、この季節の中でも一段と冷え込むことで知られている。単なる偶然に過ぎぬという意見には耳をふさぎ、それが神々によるものだと主張する者たちもいる。
50396122,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Red,FULL,0,サトゥラリアの帽子(赤)
50407391,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Purple,FULL,0,サトゥラリアの帽子(紫)
50407389,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Green,FULL,0,サトゥラリアの帽子(緑)
50407390,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Blue,FULL,0,サトゥラリアの帽子(青)
50518516,_WetHReunSkyrimNote,FULL,0,スカイリム再統一の日のチラシ
50534099,_WetHReunSkyrimLS,DESC,0,内戦が終了した後、スカイリムの首長たちは勝者側の旗を打ち立てることで、その日を記念日として祝すことに決めた。しかしながら、その決定は公式祝賀にしてはあまりに早すぎるものであった為、この催しを敗者側の首都以外で目にすることはないだろう。
50602135,_WetHRandomDate,ITXT,0,終了
50602135,_WetHRandomDate,ITXT:2,0,月/日/時をランダム化
50602135,_WetHRandomDate,ITXT:3,0,月/日をランダム化
50491436,_WetHPumpkinHood3,FULL,0,黄泉返りの日のフード
50491435,_WetHPumpkinHood2,FULL,0,黄泉返りの日のフード
50485875,_WetHPumpkinHood,FULL,0,黄泉返りの日のフード
50335075,_WetHPlayerSpell,FULL,0,Holiday
50411747,_WetHOldNewLifeNote,FULL,0,旧生祭、及び新生祭のチラシ
50563216,_WetHNotice_SunsHeight,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563216,_WetHNotice_SunsHeight,ITXT,0,終了
50563220,_WetHNotice_SunsDusk,ITXT,0,終了
50563220,_WetHNotice_SunsDusk,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50565981,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn_Windhelm,ITXT,0,終了
50565981,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn_Windhelm,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563211,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563211,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn,ITXT,0,終了
50563214,_WetHNotice_SecondSeed,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563214,_WetHNotice_SecondSeed,ITXT,0,終了
50563213,_WetHNotice_RainsHand,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563213,_WetHNotice_RainsHand,ITXT,0,終了
50563210,_WetHNotice_MorningStar,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563210,_WetHNotice_MorningStar,ITXT,0,終了
50563215,_WetHNotice_MidYear,ITXT,0,終了
50563215,_WetHNotice_MidYear,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563217,_WetHNotice_LastSeed,ITXT,0,終了
50563217,_WetHNotice_LastSeed,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563218,_WetHNotice_Heartfire,ITXT,0,終了
50563218,_WetHNotice_Heartfire,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563219,_WetHNotice_Frostfall,ITXT,0,終了
50563219,_WetHNotice_Frostfall,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563212,_WetHNotice_FirstSeed,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50563212,_WetHNotice_FirstSeed,ITXT,0,終了
50563221,_WetHNotice_EveningStar,ITXT,0,終了
50563221,_WetHNotice_EveningStar,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50567377,_WetHNotice_CW,ITXT,0,終了
50567377,_WetHNotice_CW,ITXT:2,0,機能中の祝日を確認
50413137,_WetHNorthwindsNote,FULL,0,北風の祈祷祭のチラシ
50545154,_WetHNewLifeLS,DESC,0,新生祭(暁星の月の1日)には、新たな始まりの訪れを表すと共に厄除けの意味合いも兼ねて、多くの民が白いバンダナを着用する。
50519902,_WetHNewLifeCarol_5,FULL,0,"A New Life Carol, Stave 5"
50519901,_WetHNewLifeCarol_4,FULL,0,"A New Life Carol, Stave 4"
50519900,_WetHNewLifeCarol_3,FULL,0,"A New Life Carol, Stave 3"
50519899,_WetHNewLifeCarol_2,FULL,0,"A New Life Carol, Stave 2"
50519898,_WetHNewLifeCarol_1,FULL,0,"A New Life Carol, Stave 1"
50413130,_WetHMidYearNote,FULL,0,年央式典日のチラシ
50413131,_WetHMerchantsFestivalNote,FULL,0,商人祭のチラシ
50501498,_WetHMaskThrassian,FULL,0,魔女祭の仮面(スラシア病患者)
50501485,_WetHMaskNecroTroll,FULL,0,魔女祭の仮面(癇癪者)
50501484,_WetHMaskNecroSkull,FULL,0,魔女祭の仮面(痴れ者)
50501483,_WetHMaskNecroMammoth,FULL,0,魔女祭の仮面(異端者)
50501482,_WetHMaskNecroDeer,FULL,0,魔女祭の仮面(似非者)
50362797,_WetHMarkerCell,FULL,0,マーカー・ストレージ・ユニット
50335074,_WetHMainScript,FULL,0,Main Script
50335074,_WetHMainScript,DNAM,0,
50542380,_WetHLvlFoDSpeaker,FULL,0,イオーカー・ビヤンセン
50560447,_WetHLuckyCoinFX,DNAM,0,なんだかラッキー
50560447,_WetHLuckyCoinFX,FULL,0,幸運の金貨
50518515,_WetHLibSkyrimNote,FULL,0,スカイリム解放の日のチラシ
50535469,_WetHLibSkyrimLS,DESC,0,内戦が終了した後、スカイリムの首長たちは勝者側の旗を打ち立てることで、その日を記念日として祝すことに決めた。しかしながら、その決定は公式祝賀にしてはあまりに早すぎるものであった為、この催しを敗者側の首都以外で目にすることはないだろう。
50413128,_WetHJestersDayNote,FULL,0,道化の日のチラシ
50477370,_WetHJestersDayLS,DESC,0,通常、小村の住民たちは着飾ったり一日中跳ね回ったりするだけの時間も資産もないが、タムリエル中で祝われる道化の日(恵雨の月の28日)だけは、彼らも悪戯に明け暮れる。
50448849,_WetHIndoorFireworksScript,DNAM,0,
50448849,_WetHIndoorFireworksScript,FULL,0,Indoor Fireworks Script
50574452,_WetHHolidayNotice,FULL,0,月例行事
50574452,_WetHHolidayNotice,RNAM,0,読む
50470382,_WetHHeartsDayLS,DESC,0,真心の日(薄明の月の16日)に空き宿を借りる恋人たちを見つけることは珍しくない。一般的に、この日の夜に関して口に出すことは憚られている。
50413133,_WetHHarvestsEndNote,FULL,0,収穫感謝祭のチラシ
50450216,_WetHHarvestsEndLS,DESC,0,通りにヤギを放すことは収穫感謝祭(収穫の月の27日)の伝統である。そして、子供たちはヤギの角にリボンを結びつける競争をするのだ。
50466200,_WetHGoat,FULL,0,ヤギ
50398881,_WetHGiftSatchel,FULL,0,サトゥラリア祝い
50522677,_WetHGenericLS,DESC,0,スカイリムの人々は一年を通して多くの記念日を祝います。カレンダーを確認して到来行事に備えましょう！
50431656,_WetHFWYellowStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431656,_WetHFWYellowStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Yellow Star Blast
50431655,_WetHFWWhiteStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,White Star Blast
50431655,_WetHFWWhiteStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431654,_WetHFWRocketFFAimed,FULL,0,Rocket
50431654,_WetHFWRocketFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431653,_WetHFWRedStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Red Star Blast
50431653,_WetHFWRedStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50441422,_WetHFWPurpleStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Purple Star Blast
50441422,_WetHFWPurpleStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50441423,_WetHFWOrangeStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Orange Star Blast
50441423,_WetHFWOrangeStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431648,_WetHFWMortarBlastFFAimed01,FULL,0,Mortar Blast
50431648,_WetHFWMortarBlastFFAimed01,DNAM,75288,.
50431647,_WetHFWGreenStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Green Star Blast
50431647,_WetHFWGreenStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431681,_WetHFWBlueStarsFFAimed,DNAM,75288,.
50431681,_WetHFWBlueStarsFFAimed,FULL,0,Blue Star Blast
50445996,_WetHFreeInnScript,FULL,0,Free Inn Script
50445996,_WetHFreeInnScript,DNAM,0,
50413126,_WetHFoDHeartsNote,FULL,0,行事予定表(薄明の月)
50413127,_WetHFirstPlantingNote,FULL,0,第一種蒔き祭のチラシ
50522675,_WetHFireworksLS,DESC,0,通常、ウィンターホールド大学から提供される花火は、屋内から耳にするには相当に騒々しいものがある。それ故、集落の外から静かな状態で遠めに眺めるのを好む村民もいる。
50524057,_WetHFestivalBook,FULL,0,スカイリムの祝祭
50405999,_WetHEquipHolidayScript,DNAM,0,
50405999,_WetHEquipHolidayScript,FULL,0,Equip Holiday Gear Script
50484494,_WetHEncSkeleton01Missile,FULL,0,不気味な骸骨
50484493,_WetHEncSkeleton01Melee2H,FULL,0,不気味な骸骨
50484492,_WetHEncSkeleton01Melee1Hshield,FULL,0,不気味な骸骨
50484491,_WetHEncSkeleton01Melee1H,FULL,0,不気味な骸骨
50518517,_WetHDayDragonbornNote,FULL,0,ドラゴンボーンの日のチラシ
50442888,_WetHCWStartNote,FULL,0,祝祭に関する通知
50444618,_WetHCWScript,DNAM,0,
50444618,_WetHCWScript,FULL,0,CW Script
50442889,_WetHCWEndNote,FULL,0,祝祭に関する通知(続報)
50559014,_WetHCoinLS,DESC,0,この金貨は年の始まりから南風の祈祷祭(暁星の月の15日)まで配られるもので、所有者に幸運をもたらすと言われている。
50559013,_WetHCoin,FULL,0,幸運の金貨
50511548,_WetHClothesWarlockHood,FULL,0,魔女祭の黒フード
50477369,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Yellow,FULL,0,道化の日の帽子(黄)
50477368,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Purple,FULL,0,道化の日の帽子(紫)
50477367,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Green,FULL,0,道化の日の帽子(緑)
50474573,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Blue,FULL,0,道化の日の帽子(青)
50474571,_WetHClothesJesterBoots,FULL,0,道化の日のブーツ
50477366,_WetHClothesJester_Yellow,FULL,0,道化の日の服(黄)
50477365,_WetHClothesJester_Purple,FULL,0,道化の日の服(紫)
50477364,_WetHClothesJester_Green,FULL,0,道化の日の服(緑)
50474570,_WetHClothesJester_Blue,FULL,0,道化の日の服(青)
50519911,_WetHBirthdayGiftSatchel,FULL,0,誕生日祝い
50557633,_WetHBirthday_Winter3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556233,_WetHBirthday_Winter2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50519906,_WetHBirthday_Winter1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50557632,_WetHBirthday_Thieves3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556230,_WetHBirthday_Thieves2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50519907,_WetHBirthday_Thieves1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50557631,_WetHBirthday_Generic3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556232,_WetHBirthday_Generic2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556227,_WetHBirthday_Generic1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50557630,_WetHBirthday_DB3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556229,_WetHBirthday_DB2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50519909,_WetHBirthday_DB1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50557629,_WetHBirthday_Companions3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556231,_WetHBirthday_Companions2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50519905,_WetHBirthday_Companions1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50557628,_WetHBirthday_Bards3,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50556228,_WetHBirthday_Bards2,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50519908,_WetHBirthday_Bards1,FULL,0,誕生日おめでとう！
50389030,_WetHBardScript,DNAM,0,
50389030,_WetHBardScript,FULL,0,Bard Script
50394682,_WetHBardDrumsScript,FULL,0,Bard Drums Script
50394682,_WetHBardDrumsScript,DNAM,0,
50543772,_WetHBandana_White,FULL,0,新生のバンダナ
50543773,_WetHBandana_T_White,FULL,0,新生のバンダナ(結び目つき)
50471802,_WetHAlduinScript,FULL,0,Alduin Script
50471802,_WetHAlduinScript,DNAM,0,
50444615,_WetH50OffWarriorsPerk,FULL,0,今日は戦士祭！
50444613,_WetH50OffWarriorsFX,FULL,0,50 Off Warriors FX
50444613,_WetH50OffWarriorsFX,DNAM,0,
50443248,_WetH50OffPerk,FULL,0,今日は商人祭！
50443249,_WetH50OffFX,FULL,0,50 Off FX
50443249,_WetH50OffFX,DNAM,0,
50577203,_WetH24HrScript,DNAM,0,
50577203,_WetH24HrScript,FULL,0,24 Hr Script
50431663,_WetHFWSkyBursterSingle01,DESC,0,
50441426,_WetHFWOrangeStarBurst,DESC,0,
50431661,_WetHFWRedStarBurst,DESC,0,
50431659,_WetHFWGreenStarBurst,DESC,0,
50431657,_WetHFWBlueStarBurst,DESC,0,
50488650,_WetHSkeletonSpell,DESC,0,
50394683,_WetHBardDrumsSpell,DESC,0,
50389028,_WetHBardSpell,DESC,0,
50335075,_WetHPlayerSpell,DESC,0,
50405997,_WetHNPCEquipHolidaySpell,DESC,0,
50431679,_WetHFWYellowStarBurst,DESC,0,
50431677,_WetHFWWhiteStarBurst,DESC,0,
50441424,_WetHFWPurpleStarBurst,DESC,0,
50586915,_WetHNPCEquipHolidayAliasSpell,DESC,0,
50431675,_WetHFWSkyRocket,DESC,0,
50477367,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Green,DESC,0,
50485875,_WetHPumpkinHood,DESC,0,
50477366,_WetHClothesJester_Yellow,DESC,0,
50543773,_WetHBandana_T_White,DESC,0,
50543772,_WetHBandana_White,DESC,0,
50477365,_WetHClothesJester_Purple,DESC,0,
50477364,_WetHClothesJester_Green,DESC,0,
50407391,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Purple,DESC,0,
50491435,_WetHPumpkinHood2,DESC,0,
50491436,_WetHPumpkinHood3,DESC,0,
50407390,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Blue,DESC,0,
50501482,_WetHMaskNecroDeer,DESC,0,
50501483,_WetHMaskNecroMammoth,DESC,0,
50501484,_WetHMaskNecroSkull,DESC,0,
50501485,_WetHMaskNecroTroll,DESC,0,
50501498,_WetHMaskThrassian,DESC,0,
50511548,_WetHClothesWarlockHood,DESC,0,
50407389,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Green,DESC,0,
50396122,_WetHSaturaliaHat_Red,DESC,0,
50474570,_WetHClothesJester_Blue,DESC,0,
50474573,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Blue,DESC,0,
50474571,_WetHClothesJesterBoots,DESC,0,
50477369,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Yellow,DESC,0,
50477368,_WetHClothesJesterHat_Purple,DESC,0,
50519907,_WetHBirthday_Thieves1,CNAM,0,
50519907,_WetHBirthday_Thieves1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
幸せな誕生日となるよう
きっちり約束致しましょう
あなたにとって多くの者たちが
高価な贈り物をもたらしてくれる
一年となることを祈ります

誕生日おめでとう</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>盗みの友より</p>"
50519908,_WetHBirthday_Bards1,CNAM,0,
50519908,_WetHBirthday_Bards1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
もしも誕生日を持っていないなら、
あなたは、あなたではないだろう。

もしもまだ生まれてなかったら、
あなただったらどうしてる？
もしもまだ生まれてなかったら、
あなただったらなんになる？

魚になっていたのかも！ それとも木の上のトロールか！
ドアノブだって悪くない！ いやいやベイクドポテトとか！
未熟な緑トマトでいっぱいの、布袋だったのかもしれぬ！

誕生日おめでとう！</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                    吟遊詩人より</p>"
50519909,_WetHBirthday_DB1,CNAM,0,
50519909,_WetHBirthday_DB1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
今日が待ち遠しかった、
今日はまさに君だけの日、
今日は君がちやほやされる日、
君にはその価値がある - 本当さ
多くの者たちを倒してきた君だけど
今日は力を抜いて、楽しみ、くつろいで、
君が世間の注目を浴びる番がやって来たんだ、
だって君は特別 - 世界に1つだけの存在なのだから。
<img src='img://Textures/interface/books/dbhand.png' height='128' width='128'>"
50524057,_WetHFestivalBook,CNAM,0,
50524057,_WetHFestivalBook,DESC,0,"[pagebreak]
<p align=""center"">


スカイリムの祝祭


代書人のイソクス 編集



[pagebreak]
[pagebreak]
<p align=""center"">早見表</p><p align=""left""><font size='15'> 暁星の月の１日: 新生祭
暁星の月の15日: 南風の祈祷祭
暁星の月の16日: 光の祝祭
薄明の月の13日: 死者の祝祭
薄明の月の16日: 真心の日
蒔種の月の７日: 第一種蒔き祭
恵雨の月の28日: 道化の日
栽培の月の７日: 第二種蒔き祭
真央の月の16日: 年央式典日
南中の月の10日: 商人祭
南中の月の20日: 日没感謝祭
収穫の月の27日: 収穫感謝祭
薪木の月の３日: 黄泉返りの日
降霜の月の13日: 魔女祭
黄昏の月の20日: 戦士祭
星霜の月の15日: 北風の祈祷祭
星霜の月の25日: サトゥラリア
星霜の月の31日: 旧生祭、及び新生祭</font></p>
[pagebreak]
<p align=""center"">詳述表</p><p align=""left""><font size='15'><b>暁星の月の１日: 新生祭</b>
 タムリエルの人々は新年を祝して新生祭を開きます。この日を新しい始まりと考える人は多く、それ故、友人や家族たちと静かに祝うが為、この日を休日とする人も多いのです。

<b>暁星の月の15日: 南風の祈祷祭</b>
 この記念日は、良い種蒔きの季節となるようタムリエルの全ての地方で祈られる日です。また、この日は聖職者たちが無料で治癒行為を請け負ってくれることでも有名であり、タムリエルで名の付く病に罹っている住民たちが一斉に全ての聖堂に押し寄せる日でもあります。この日に聖堂へ正規の額を支払う人はほとんどいませんが、実際本当に支払えない懐事情の人は稀のようです。
[pagebreak]

<b>暁星の月の16日: 光の祝祭r</b>
 毎年、ドーンスターの住民は海で亡くなった魂を我が家へと導くべく、彼らの住む沿岸の街を輝く灯に変えます。この日を祝して菓子などが配られることはほとんどありません。

<b>薄明の月の13日: 死者の祝祭</b>
 スカイリムのウィンドヘルムでのみ祝われます。豪華な宴の一時と共に、イスグラモルが率いた500の同胞団の名前が朗詠されます。
[pagebreak]

<b>薄明の月の16日: 真心の日</b>
 真心の日はタムリエル中で祝われている日です。その日はあらゆる家で若い世代に向けて恋人たちの伝承歌を聞かせるようです。さらに、ポリドールとエロイサという恋人たちを記念して、街の宿代が無料になります。このような厚意を受けた恋人たちは決まって言うのです、この世がずっと春ならいいのに、と。
[pagebreak]

<b>蒔種の月の７日: 第一種蒔き祭</b>
 スカイリムの人々は、秋の収穫を見越して象徴的に種蒔きをするこの日を祝います。それは収穫物、そして住人たちにとっても新しい始まりの祝祭なのです。だからこの日彼らは口喧嘩していた隣人と和解し、抱負を打ちたて、悪癖を洗い流し、病を治療するのです。折りしもこの日、聖堂の司祭たちは毒や麻痺、疾病、その他タムリエルで名の付く災いの元を治療すべく無料の診療所を終日開いています。
[pagebreak]

<b>恵雨の月の28日: 道化の日</b>
 まるで社会全体が魔法にかけられたかのように、街の端から端まで悪戯に埋め尽くされる日です。街でもっとも無口で威厳のある評議員のような人物でさえ、この日は親戚をからかおうとするのです。誰もがスリに目を光らせている日でもあるので、盗賊ギルドは特に気をつけておかなければなりません。

<b>栽培の月の７日: 第二種蒔き祭</b>
 象徴的に行われた最初の種蒔きで植えた種が成長するように、心も成長していくのだということを暗に示した、第一種蒔き祭に似た伝統的な祝日です。この日、聖堂はあらゆる疾病や苦痛に悩まされている人々に対し治療を施す、二度目にして今年最後の無料診療所を開きます。しかし今回の診療所は平和と非暴力を掲げたものである為、戦傷の治療の場合は全額負担となります。
[pagebreak]

<b>真央の月の16日: 年央式典日</b>
 恐らく、皇帝による増税という例年の報告を緩和する為、街の聖堂が通常定めている寄進の半値で祝福を請け負ってくれるようになります。ですが祝福を受けた人々の中には、完全に準備が整っていない内に(危険な)ダンジョンに入っても大丈夫だという気になってしまう人もおり、この楽しい祝祭が突然、敗北や悲劇の日に変わってしまうなんてこともよくある話なのです。
[pagebreak]

<b>南中の月の10日: 商人祭</b>
 この世界のあらゆる特売購入客が大勢外出する日です。あらゆる市場や装備品店の値段が半額になるからです。唯一例外なのは魔術師ギルドくらいなもので、そこで売られているのはいつも通り、途方もない額の品物ばかりです。

<b>南中の月の20日: 日没感謝祭</b>
 装備品を購入しようと考えているなら、翌日まで待ったほうがいいでしょう。この日は全ての店が閉まっているからです。もちろん聖堂、宿屋、魔術師ギルドなどは通常営業していますが、ほとんどの住民はこの日、商業や祈祷などせず休養に専念することを選んでいます。何もこれは便利な取り決めという訳ではありませんが、店を開いていると商人ギルドが重い罰金を科してくるので、誰もが従っているという訳なのです。
[pagebreak]

<b>収穫の月の27日: 収穫感謝祭</b>
 今年の仕事もこれにて終わりを迎えます。種蒔き、植え付け --そして刈り取り。ようやく収穫した作物を賛美し、味わう時がやって来たのです。この日は祝われている地域にいる観光客でさえも、混じらないかと農民たちに誘われるほどです。そして、栄養不良の農場労働者が腹いっぱいに詰め込んだ後に町の広場で戻しそうになっているのも、収穫感謝祭においては一般的に見られる光景なのです。

<b>薪木の月の３日: 黄泉返りの日</b>
 少数の迷信深い年を重ねた老人たちは、死者の悪霊が体内に入ることを恐れて一日中口を開くことがありません。それ以外の大半の住民は、黄泉帰りの日と呼ばれるこの祝日を楽しみますが、どんな陽気な人でさえも夕暮れ過ぎた夜道だけは避けます。なぜなら今夜、死者が歩き回ることを誰もが知っているからです。
[pagebreak]

<b>降霜の月の13日: 魔女祭</b>
 魔術の力と信仰の力がぶつかり合う日です。悪魔学者、召喚士、妖婦、魔道師、魔術師たちが(街の)外の荒地にて一堂に会し、タムリエルを永劫悩ませるであろう生物を召喚したり創造したりするのです。賢い人々ならば、その夜は出歩かないほうが賢明でしょう。

<b>黄昏の月の20日: 戦士祭</b>
 全ての装備品が半額になるということで、その土地の多くの戦士や魔剣士、ごろつきなどはこの日、装備品店や鍛冶屋などに足を運びます。悲しいことに、まだ剣を買ったことのない多くの少年が値段の安さにだまされ、通りに未熟者たちの小競り合いが鳴り響くこともあります。
[pagebreak]

<b>星霜の月の15日: 北風の祈祷祭</b>
 良い収穫と穏やかな冬に対して神々に感謝の祈りを捧げる日です。ここ数年は収穫もぼちぼちあり、冬も季節を外れた厳しいものではありませんでした。この日の聖堂は、通常求められる半分の寄進で祝福、治療、治癒を請け負ってくれます。

<b>星霜の月の25日: サトゥラリア</b>
 元々、長きに渡り忘れ去られていた放蕩の神の祝日であり、今では贈り物をしたり、パーティーを開いたり、パレードなどをする日になりました。観光客の参加ももちろん奨励されています。
[pagebreak]

<b>星霜の月の31日: 旧生祭</b>
 この日、多くの人が自らの過去を反省する為、聖堂へ赴きます。ある者はそれ以上の目的で足を運びます、司祭たちが一年の締めくくりとして、最愛の友や家族の復活にかかる料金を免除してくれるとの噂があるからです。礼拝者たちはこの慈善を期待するほど愚かではありません。ですが、それでも彼らは最近亡くなった者たちが並んだ、ぞっとするような行列を作るのです。</font>"
50411745,_WetHSouthWindsFoLNote,CNAM,0,
50411745,_WetHSouthWindsFoLNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/M_letter.png'> 暁星の月
到来行事</p>

15日 - 北風の祈祷祭
 同じ集落の人々の来期の豊作を祈る為、是非とも地元の聖堂を訪れて下さい。この日は治療行為を無料で受けられます。

16日 - 光の祝祭
 ドーンスターでは、町限定の年中行事として夜を照らす祭りが午後6時以降に催されます。"
50413136,_WetHWarriorsFestivalNote,CNAM,0,
50413136,_WetHWarriorsFestivalNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/W_letter.png'> 戦士祭
黄昏の月の20日

 本日はあなたの街の武器屋や鍛冶屋の装備が全て半額！ 今こそ冒険に出る為に買い込む時です。この機会をお見逃しなく！</p>"
50442888,_WetHCWStartNote,CNAM,0,
50442888,_WetHCWStartNote,DESC,0,"<p align=""center""><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/N_letter.png'> 祝祭に関する通知</p>

 ストームクロークと帝国軍の間の暴力問題が激化してきた為、スカイリムの首長たちは、追って通達があるまで全ての祝祭の中止を呼びかけた。住民たちには争いごとの火種とならぬよう、家に閉じこもっておくことを奨励している。</p>"
50413128,_WetHJestersDayNote,CNAM,0,
50413128,_WetHJestersDayNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/J_letter.png'> 道化の日
恵雨の日の28日


今年も道化の日が来たよ。
とっても楽しい一日です。
とっても賢いオツムなら、
誰かを馬鹿にできるかも！</p>"
50413135,_WetHWitchesFestivalNote,CNAM,0,
50413135,_WetHWitchesFestivalNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'>
13日、霜降る月の下にて

<img src='img://Textures/wetandcold/holidays/witches_map.png' height='269' width='342'></p>"
50413127,_WetHFirstPlantingNote,CNAM,0,
50413127,_WetHFirstPlantingNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/F_letter.png'> 第一種蒔き祭
蒔種の月の7日

 清爽たるお祭りが今年も再びやって来ました。さあ今こそ口喧嘩を止め、抱負を打ちたて、悪癖を洗い流しましょう！

 例年通り、全ての聖堂での治癒行為は無料となります。
</p>"
50413131,_WetHMerchantsFestivalNote,CNAM,0,
50413131,_WetHMerchantsFestivalNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/M_letter.png'> 商人祭
南中の月の10日

 今年一番の売買の日がやってきました！ 日が昇ってから沈むまで、商人たちがあらゆるものを半値で売ってくれますよ！

<font size='12'>※ 街に居を構える商人にのみ有効。つけで買うことお断り。ゴールド以外での売買不可。他商品と同梱した場合送料無料。</font></p>"
50411747,_WetHOldNewLifeNote,CNAM,0,
50411747,_WetHOldNewLifeNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/O_letter.png'> 旧生祭、及び新生祭
星霜の月の31日 - 暁星の月の1日

 いよいよ31日がやって来ました。あなたの住んでいる聖堂で、今年の出来事を顧みるといいでしょう。その後は、主要な都市にて午後10時から行われる(ウィンターホールド大学提供による)花火ショーを楽しんで下さい。この日は全ての店が早くに閉まり、そのまま暁星の月の2日まで開くことはないので、入用なものがある方はお早めに。</p>"
50413132,_WetHSunsRestNote,CNAM,0,
50413132,_WetHSunsRestNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/S_letter.png'>日没感謝祭
南中の月の20日

 ついに安息日がやって来ました。この日は全ての店が閉まるので、必要なものがあればお早めに。

 ウィンターホールド大学による花火ショーは、全ての主要都市で午後10時頃くらいから始まります。
</p>"
50413133,_WetHHarvestsEndNote,CNAM,0,
50413133,_WetHHarvestsEndNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/H_letter.png'> 収穫感謝祭
収穫の月の27日

<font size='19'>円のように一年は回る
巡る巡るよ季節も巡る
作物根こそぎ集めたら
凍える北風吹き抜ける</font>

 この日も一日宿屋は大忙しですが、午後5時までなら街中でも飲食物が無料で振舞われますよ！</p>"
50413126,_WetHFoDHeartsNote,CNAM,0,
50413126,_WetHFoDHeartsNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/S_letter.png'> 薄明の月
到来行事</p>

13日 - 死者の祝祭
 その日の晩、ウィンドヘルムの王の宮殿にてイスグラモルの率いた500の同胞団が礼賛されます。祝宴は午後5時以降に開かれます。

16日 - 真心の日
 ポリドールとエロイサの恋人たち2人のことを祝して、スカイリム中の宿の滞在費が無料になります。"
50413138,_WetHSaturaliaNote,CNAM,0,
50413138,_WetHSaturaliaNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/S_letter.png'> サトゥラリア
星霜の月の25日

<font size='19'>あなたの休日が幸せであり、
愛と笑いに包まれますように
次の年まであなたの行く先に、
毎日喜びが訪れますように</font>

 飲んで陽気に騒ぎましょう。この祝典は午後5時頃、屋外にて始まります。
</p>"
50413134,_WetHTalesTallowsNote,CNAM,0,
50413134,_WetHTalesTallowsNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/T_letter.png'>黄泉帰りの日
薪木の月の3日

<font size='19'>カボチャのわた、魔女の影、
のたうつスキーヴァーの真っ黒な目、
それら全てに魔法をかけて、
これで黄泉帰りの日は準備万端…</font>

 この祝典は午後2時から午後7時まで、屋外で行われます。くれぐれも忍び寄る夜にはご注意下さい…</p>"
50413137,_WetHNorthwindsNote,CNAM,0,
50413137,_WetHNorthwindsNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/N_letter.png'> 北風の祈祷祭
星霜の月の15日

 本日は、良い収穫や穏やかな冬の為に感謝の祈りを捧げる日です。さらに全ての司祭が再び半値で奉仕してくれます。

 聖堂で祈りを捧げることに日を費やして、あなたの為に尽力してくれた人々に感謝することを忘れないようにして下さい。
</p>"
50556228,_WetHBirthday_Bards2,CNAM,0,
50556228,_WetHBirthday_Bards2,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
今日はあなたが素敵な物に囲まれると願いましょう、
今日がもたらす喜びは忘れえぬものとなりましょう、

今日は歓喜の声さえずる日、
今日は夢がきっと叶う日、
今日はあなたの為の日、

それらは全てあなただけのもの！</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                    吟遊詩人より</p>"
50556229,_WetHBirthday_DB2,CNAM,0,
50556229,_WetHBirthday_DB2,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>

特別な友へ…

今日はあなたの大切な誕生日、欲しいものを強く願えば、きっと望みが叶うことでしょう…

愛と平和と幸せが常にそばにありますよう
<img src='img://Textures/interface/books/dbhand.png' height='128' width='128'>"
50556230,_WetHBirthday_Thieves2,CNAM,0,
50556230,_WetHBirthday_Thieves2,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
俺らはダチだ、決してガキじゃない…

色々願え！ 延々狙え！
さんざ楽しんで成功の門叩け！
今日はお前の日だから全力でいけ！
誕生日めでたし言うのそれだけ！

じゃあな/p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>盗みの友より</p>"
50556231,_WetHBirthday_Companions2,CNAM,0,
50556231,_WetHBirthday_Companions2,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
 どういう訳か、君への贈り物を買いに行ったら自分たちのものより数多く買い揃えることになったよ。
 今度の誕生日はかなり値が張るものとなったが、しかし君にはその価値がある。</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>               同胞団より</p>"
50556232,_WetHBirthday_Generic2,CNAM,0,
50556232,_WetHBirthday_Generic2,DESC,0,"<p align='left'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
ブーツの靴紐をしっかり結び、
ナップサックを背中に背負い、
丘を超え、谷を超え、
ツンドラだってなんのその、

ぶらぶら歩くことが好きなあなたの為に、
顔に風を浴びるのが好きなあなたの為に、
都会での生活のことなど一切忘れて、
岩肌に全てを委ねて心癒して下さい、

今日はあなたの誕生日、
気に入りそうなものを贈ります、
丘から美しい景色が拝めること、
それだけを祈ってます！
<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                    友より</p>"
50556233,_WetHBirthday_Winter2,CNAM,0,
50556233,_WetHBirthday_Winter2,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
特別な日の幕が切って落とされた…
あなたと一緒にいられることの喜びよ…
私たちが日夜、あなたのことを
考えていることを知っておいて下さい…
あなたの幸福と日々の成功を願って！

誕生日おめでとう！</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>ウィンターホールド大学より</p>"
50413130,_WetHMidYearNote,CNAM,0,
50413130,_WetHMidYearNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/M_letter.png'> 年央式典日
真央の月の16日

 狩りの準備はできていますか？ 次のダンジョンを冒険する計画は？ 今日は全ての聖堂で祝福を半額で受けられますよ！

 午後5時から路上で始まる一年の中心を祝う催しが終わった後は、そのまま思い切って冒険に行ってドラウグルでもやっつけましょう！
</p>"
50556227,_WetHBirthday_Generic1,CNAM,0,
50556227,_WetHBirthday_Generic1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
御多幸お祈り致します
愛と笑いに満たされたこの日が
今日だけでなく一年通して
次の誕生日まで続くことを

誕生日おめでとう！

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                    友より</p>"
50557629,_WetHBirthday_Companions3,CNAM,0,
50557629,_WetHBirthday_Companions3,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
夢とは他者を意味する言葉
望みは遠く少ないが
しかし我らは希望を贈った
真の友の待つ場所へ

あなたに喜びで満たされた
多くの瞬間が訪れるよう
あなたと同じく愛らしい
数々の夢にあふれますよう</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>               同胞団より</p>"
50557630,_WetHBirthday_DB3,CNAM,0,
50557630,_WetHBirthday_DB3,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
1歳年を取ったですって？
そんなまさか冗談でしょう、

でもしわが1つ増えたといっても、
人は遅かれ早かれ死ぬので大丈夫、

でもここで本当に大事なことは、
心を若々しいままに保つってこと、
そういう気持ちを心がけるといいよ、

新しい自分を迎えるにはそれが一番さ！
<img src='img://Textures/interface/books/dbhand.png' height='128' width='128'>"
50557631,_WetHBirthday_Generic3,CNAM,0,
50557631,_WetHBirthday_Generic3,DESC,0,"<p align='left'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
誕生日というものは
大切な思い出を作ったり
幸せ運ぶ計画や夢を願ったり
そういう物の為の時間なのです

誕生日おめでとう

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                    友より</p>"
50557632,_WetHBirthday_Thieves3,CNAM,0,
50557632,_WetHBirthday_Thieves3,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
他の者に対してこの一年間
数多くの気の利いたことをしてくれたな、
お前にはスリの才能があり
服と胸ポケットをいっぱいにしてみせた。
だから俺たちはこの日こそ
お前が願い事をするに完璧な日と悟った、
今までの日々や年を通して
素晴らしい品を受け取るに値する奴だぜ！

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>盗みの友より</p>"
50557633,_WetHBirthday_Winter3,CNAM,0,
50557633,_WetHBirthday_Winter3,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
あなたの一日が明るくなることを祈って、
私たちは配達人に紙片を届けさせました、
後から祝い品も贈るので期待して下さい

今日は人生最高の時間に相当する、
正にあなたの為の日なのですから！

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>ウィンターホールド大学より</p>"
50557628,_WetHBirthday_Bards3,CNAM,0,
50557628,_WetHBirthday_Bards3,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
一年とはあっという間に過ぎるもの
詩人から友への誕生祝いを紡ぎます
あなたの願いが全て叶い夢が実現しますよう
誰にも負けない価値のある人になれますよう

誕生日おめでとう</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>                   吟遊詩人より</p>"
50442889,_WetHCWEndNote,CNAM,0,
50442889,_WetHCWEndNote,DESC,0,"<p align=""center""><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/N_letter.png'> 祝祭に関する通知(続報)</p>


 内戦が終わり、スカイリムの首長たちは再び祝い事を行っても良いとの布告を出した。さあ、互いの違いなどは今すぐ脇へ置いて、共にハチミツ酒を腹いっぱい飲み明かそう！</p>"
50518516,_WetHReunSkyrimNote,CNAM,0,
50518516,_WetHReunSkyrimNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/R_letter.png'> スカイリム再統一の日
来 た る

 皇帝陛下万歳！ 帝国万歳！

 スカイリムの未来を守る為、多くの戦士たちの命が失われた日が今年もやって来ました。さあ、我々も関係を修復し、共に感謝し合い、最終的には同じ旗の下に団結しましょう！ しかるべき日に、最寄の町の宿をのぞいてみて下さい。</p>"
50518517,_WetHDayDragonbornNote,CNAM,0,
50518517,_WetHDayDragonbornNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/D_letter.png'> ドラゴンボーンの日
来 た る

 タムリエルの救世主、ドラゴンボーン万歳！

 アルドゥインを打ち破った記念日にして、ドラゴンボーンの予言が成就された日がやって来ました。スカイリムの人々は表に出て日がな一日祝うと共に、全ての主要な都市では、午後10時頃から花火が打ち上がることでしょう！ しかるべき日に、最寄の町の宿をのぞいてみて下さい。</p>"
50518515,_WetHLibSkyrimNote,CNAM,0,
50518515,_WetHLibSkyrimNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/L_letter.png'>スカイリム解放の日
来 た る

 己が祖国に、己が血脈に忠を尽くせよ！ スカイリムに生まれし息子や娘たちの為に！

 スカイリムの未来を守る為、多くの戦士たちの命が失われた日が今年もやって来ました。さあ、我々も関係を修復し、共に感謝し合い、最終的には同じ旗の下に団結しましょう！ しかるべき日に、最寄の町の宿をのぞいてみて下さい。</p>"
50519898,_WetHNewLifeCarol_1,CNAM,0,
50519898,_WetHNewLifeCarol_1,DESC,0,"[pagebreak]
<p align=""center"">


A New Life Carol, Stave 1
<font size='18'>Marlhu's Ghost</font>



By

Carius Dicensius</p>
[pagebreak]
[pagebreak]
<font size='18'><p align=""left"">
Marlhu was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrugius signed it: and Scrugius's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marlhu was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marlhu was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrugius knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrugius and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrugius was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrugius was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.

The mention of Marlhu's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marlhu was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Lysandus died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say Green Emporer Way's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish the Champion's weak mind.

Scrugius never painted out Old Marlhu's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrugius and Marlhu. The firm was known as Scrugius and Marlhu. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrugius Scrugius, and sometimes Marlhu, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.

Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrugius! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at New Life.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrugius. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often ""came down"" handsomely, and Scrugius never did.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, ""My dear Scrugius, how are you? When will you come to see me?"" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrugius. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, ""No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!""

But what did Scrugius care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call ""nuts"" to Scrugius.

Once upon a time -- of all the good days in the year, on Old Life -- old Scrugius sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already -- it had not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale.

The door of Scrugius's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrugius had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrugius kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed.

""A merry New Life, uncle! God save you!"" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrugius's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

""Bah!"" said Scrugius, ""Humbug!""

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrugius's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.

""New Life a humbug, uncle!"" said Scrugius's nephew. ""You don't mean that, I am sure.""

""I do,"" said Scrugius. ""Merry New Life! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.""

""Come, then,"" returned the nephew gaily. ""What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.""

Scrugius having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said ""Bah!"" again; and followed it up with ""Humbug.""

""Don't be cross, uncle!"" said the nephew.

""What else can I be,"" returned the uncle, ""when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry New Life! Out upon merry New Life! What's New Life time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,"" said Scrugius indignantly, ""every idiot who goes about with 'Merry New Life' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!""

""Uncle!"" pleaded the nephew.

""Nephew!"" returned the uncle, sternly, ""keep New Life in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.""

""Keep it!"" repeated Scrugius's nephew. ""But you don't keep it.""

""Let me leave it alone, then,"" said Scrugius. ""Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!""

""There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,"" returned the nephew. ""New Life among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of New Life time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!""

The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark for ever.

""Let me hear another sound from you,"" said Scrugius, ""and you'll keep your New Life by losing your situation. You're quite a powerful speaker, sir,"" he added, turning to his nephew. ""I wonder you don't go into Court.""

""Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow.""

Scrugius said that he would see him -- yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.

""But why?"" cried Scrugius's nephew. ""Why?""

""Why did you get married?"" said Scrugius.

""Because I fell in love.""

""Because you fell in love!"" growled Scrugius, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry New Life. ""Good afternoon!""

""Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to New Life, and I'll keep my New Life humour to the last. So A Merry New Life, uncle!""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""And A Happy New Year!""

""Good afternoon!"" said Scrugius.

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the clerk, who cold as he was, was warmer than Scrugius; for he returned them cordially.

""There's another fellow,"" muttered Scrugius; who overheard him: ""my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry New Life. I'll retire to the asylum.""

This lunatic, in letting Scrugius's nephew out, had let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrugius's office. They had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.

""Scrugius and Marlhu's, I believe,"" said one of the gentlemen, referring to his list. ""Have I the pleasure of addressing Scrugius or Marlhu?""

""Marlhu has been dead these seven years,"" Scrugius replied. ""He died seven years ago, this very night.""

""We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner,"" said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.

It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word ""liberality,"" Scrugius frowned, and shook his head, and handed the credentials back.

""At this festive season of the year, Scrugius,"" said the gentleman, taking up a pen, ""it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.""

""Are there no prisons?"" asked Scrugius.

""Plenty of prisons,"" said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

""Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,"" said Scrugius. ""I'm very glad to hear it.""

""Under the impression that they scarcely furnish saintly cheer of mind or body to the multitude,"" returned the gentleman, ""a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?""

""Nothing!"" Scrugius replied.

""You wish to be anonymous?""

""I wish to be left alone,"" said Scrugius. ""Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at New Life and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned -- they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.""

""Many can't go there; and many would rather die.""

""If they would rather die,"" said Scrugius, ""they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides -- excuse me -- I don't know that.""

""But you might know it,"" observed the gentleman.

""It's not my business,"" Scrugius returned. ""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, gentlemen!""

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrugius returned his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slyly down at Scrugius out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowing sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke; a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. Even the little tailor, whom he had fined five septims on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.

Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrugius's keyhole to regale him with a New Life carol: but at the first note, Scrugius seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost.

At length the hour of shutting up the countinghouse arrived. With an ill-will Scrugius dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.

""You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?"" said Scrugius.

""If quite convenient, sir.""

""It's not convenient,"" said Scrugius, ""and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-septim for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?""

The clerk smiled faintly.

""And yet,"" said Scrugius, ""you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work.""

The clerk observed that it was only once a year.

""A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of Evening Star!"" said Scrugius, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. ""But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.""

The clerk promised that he would; and Scrugius walked out with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no great-coat), went down a slide, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Old Life, and then ran home as hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's-buff.

Scrugius took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrugius, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrugius, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold.

Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Scrugius had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also that Scrugius had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the Imperial City, even including -- which is a bold word -- the Council. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrugius had not bestowed one thought on Marlhu, since his last mention of his seven years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrugius, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change -- not a knocker, but Marlhu's face.

Marlhu's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrugius as Marlhu used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part or its own expression.

As Scrugius looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.

To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.

He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door; and he did look cautiously behind it first, as if he half- expected to be terrified with the sight of Marlhu's pigtail sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on, so he said ""Pooh, pooh!"" and closed it with a bang.

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above, and every cask in the wine-merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrugius was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall, and up the stairs; slowly too: trimming his candle as he went.

You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and- six up a good old flight of stairs, but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards the wall and the door towards the balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scrugius thought he saw a locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrugius's dip.

Up Scrugius went, not caring a button for that. Darkness is cheap, and Scrugius liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that.

Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrugius had a cold in his head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire- guards, old shoes, two fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.

Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in; double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.

It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace was an old one, built by some foreign merchant long ago, and paved all round with quaint Elven tiles, designed to illustrate the Elder Scrolls. There were hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts -- and yet that face of Marlhu, seven years dead, came like the ancient wizard's staff, and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, with power to shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of old Marlhu's head on every one.

""Humbug!"" said Scrugius; and walked across the room.

After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house.

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine merchant's cellar. Scrugius then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.

The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

""It's humbug still!"" said Scrugius. ""I won't believe it.""

His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried, ""I know him; Marlhu's Ghost!"" and fell again.

The same face: the very same. Marlhu in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Scrugius observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent, so that Scrugius, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.

Scrugius had often heard it said that Marlhu had no bowels, but he had never believed it until now.

No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.

""How now!"" said Scrugius, caustic and cold as ever. ""What do you want with me?""

""Much!"" -- Marlhu's voice, no doubt about it.

""Who are you?""

""Ask me who I was.""

""Who were you then?"" said Scrugius, raising his voice. ""You're particular, for a shade."" He was going to say ""to a shade,"" but substituted this, as more appropriate.

""In life I was your partner, Jadave Marlhu.""

""Can you -- can you sit down?"" asked Scrugius, looking doubtfully at him.

""I can.""

""Do it then.""

Scrugius asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.

""You don't believe in me,"" observed the Ghost.

""I don't."" said Scrugius.

""What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?""

""I don't know,"" said Scrugius.

""Why do you doubt your senses?""

""Because,"" said Scrugius, ""a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!""

Scrugius was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.

To sit, staring at those fixed glazed eyes, in silence for a moment, would play, Scrugius felt, the very deuce with him. There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal atmosphere of its own. Scrugius could not feel it himself, but this was clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.

""You see this toothpick?"" said Scrugius, returning quickly to the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.

""I do,"" replied the Ghost.

""You are not looking at it,"" said Scrugius.

""But I see it,"" said the Ghost, ""notwithstanding.""

""Well!"" returned Scrugius, ""I have but to swallow this, and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you! humbug!""

At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrugius held on tight to his chair, to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror, when the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast!

Scrugius fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.

""Mercy!"" he said. ""Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?""

""Man of the worldly mind!"" replied the Ghost, ""do you believe in me or not?""

""I do,"" said Scrugius. ""I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?""

""It is required of every man,"" the Ghost returned, ""that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world -- oh, woe is me! -- and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!""

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.

""You are fettered,"" said Scrugius, trembling. ""Tell me why?""

""I wear the chain I forged in life,"" replied the Ghost. ""I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?""

Scrugius trembled more and more.

""Or would you know,"" pursued the Ghost, ""the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Old Lifes ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!""

Scrugius glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could see nothing.

""Jadave,"" he said, imploringly. ""Old Jadave Marlhu, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jadave!""

""I have none to give,"" the Ghost replied. ""It comes from other regions, Ebonius Scrugius, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house -- mark me! -- in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me!""

It was a habit with Scrugius, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.

""You must have been very slow about it, Jadave,"" Scrugius observed, in a business-like manner, though with humility and deference.

""Slow!"" the Ghost repeated.

""Seven years dead,"" mused Scrugius. ""And travelling all the time!""

""The whole time,"" said the Ghost. ""No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.""

""You travel fast?"" said Scrugius.

""On the wings of the wind,"" replied the Ghost.

""You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,"" said Scrugius.

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.

""Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,"" cried the phantom, ""not to know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!""

""But you were always a good man of business, Jadave,"" faltered Scrugius, who now began to apply this to himself.

""Business!"" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. ""Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!""

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

""At this time of the rolling year,"" the spectre said ""I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down!"" 

Scrugius was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.

""Hear me!"" cried the Ghost. ""My time is nearly gone.""

""I will,"" said Scrugius. ""But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery, Jadave! Pray!""

""How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.""

It was not an agreeable idea. Scrugius shivered, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

""That is no light part of my penance,"" pursued the Ghost. ""I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebonius.""

""You were always a good friend to me,"" said Scrugius. ""Thank `ee!""

""You will be haunted,"" resumed the Ghost, ""by Three Spirits.""

Scrugius's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.

""Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jadave?"" he demanded, in a faltering voice.

""It is.""

""I -- I think I'd rather not,"" said Scrugius.

""Without their visits,"" said the Ghost, ""you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one.""

""Couldn't I take `em all at once, and have it over, Jadave?"" hinted Scrugius.

""Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!""

When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrugius knew this, by the smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm.

The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open. It beckoned Scrugius to approach, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Marlhu's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer. Scrugius stopped.

Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self- accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.

Scrugius followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains like Marlhu's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to Scrugius in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant, whom it saw below, upon a door-step. The misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the night became as it had been when he walked home.

Scrugius closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say ""Humbug!"" but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant."
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<p align=""center"">


A New Life Carol, Stave 2
<font size='18'>The First of the Three Spirits</font>



By

Carius Dicensius</p>
[pagebreak]
[pagebreak]
<font size='18'><p align=""left"">
When Scrugius awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of a neighbouring church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour.

To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve. It was past two when he went to bed. The clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve.

He touched the spring of his repeater, to correct this most preposterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve: and stopped.

""Why, it isn't possible,"" said Scrugius, ""that I can have slept through a whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon.""

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed, and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see anything; and could see very little then. All he could make out was, that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running to and fro, and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the world. This was a great relief, because ""three days after sight of this First of Exchange pay to Ebonius Scrugius or his order,"" and so forth, would have become a worthless security if there were no days to count by.

Scrugius went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought. Marlhu's Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, ""Was it a dream or not?""

Scrugius lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quarters more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the hour was past; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than go to Oblivion, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.

The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.

""Ding, dong!""

""A quarter past,"" said Scrugius, counting.

""Ding dong!""

""Half past!"" said Scrugius.

""Ding dong!""

""A quarter to it,"" said Scrugius.

""Ding dong!""

""The hour itself,"" said Scrugius, triumphantly,

""and nothing else!""

He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrugius, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, 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, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. 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 in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white, and round its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beautiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.

Even this, though, when Scrugius looked at it with increasing steadiness, was not its strangest quality. For as its belt sparkled and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was light one instant, at another time was dark, so the figure itself fluctuated in its distinctness: being now a thing with one arm, now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs without a head, now a head without a body: of which dissolving parts, no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it would be itself again; distinct and clear as ever.

""Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?"" asked Scrugius.

""I am.""

The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

""Who, and what are you?"" Scrugius demanded.

""I am the Ghost of New Life Past.""

""Long Past?"" inquired Scrugius: observant of its dwarfish stature.

""No. Your past.""

Perhaps, Scrugius could not have told anybody why, if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see the Spirit in his cap; and begged him to be covered.

""What!"" exclaimed the Ghost, ""Would you so soon put out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow!""

Scrugius reverently disclaimed all intention to offend or any knowledge of having willfully bonneted the Spirit at any period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.

""Your welfare,"" said the Ghost.

Scrugius expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:

""Your reclamation, then. Take heed.""

It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.

""Rise. And walk with me.""

It would have been in vain for Scrugius 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.

""I am mortal,"" Scrugius remonstrated, ""and liable to fall.""

""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.

""By the saints!"" said Scrugius, 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.

""Your lip is trembling,"" said the Ghost. ""And what is that upon your cheek?""

Scrugius muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would.

""You recollect the way?"" inquired the Spirit.

""Remember it!"" cried Scrugius with fervour -- ""I could walk it blindfold.""

""Strange to have forgotten it for so many years,"" observed the Ghost. ""Let us go on.""

They walked along the road, Scrugius 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.

""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, Scrugius knew and named them every one. Why was he 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 New Life, as they parted at cross-roads and-bye ways, for their several homes? What was merry New Life to Scrugius? Out upon merry New Life! What good had it ever done to him?

""The school is not quite deserted,"" said the Ghost. ""A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.""

Scrugius 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 an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candle-light, and not too much to eat.

They went, the Ghost and Scrugius, across the hall, to a door at the back of the house. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and Scrugius sat down upon a form, and wept to see his poor forgotten self as he used to be.

Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice behind the paneling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell upon the heart of Scrugius with a softening influence, and gave a freer passage to his tears. He said, in pity for his former self, ""Poor boy!"" and cried again.

""I wish,"" Scrugius muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: ""but it's too late now.""

""What is the matter?"" asked the Spirit.

""Nothing,"" said Scrugius. ""Nothing. There was a boy singing a New Life Carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something: that's all.""

The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand: saying as it did so, ""Let us see another New Life!""

Scrugius's former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrunk, the windows cracked; fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and the naked laths were shown instead; but how all this was brought about, Scrugius knew no more than you do. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home for the jolly holidays.

He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly. Scrugius looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glanced anxiously towards the door.

It opened; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him, addressed him as her ""Dear, dear brother.""

""I have come to bring you home, dear brother!"" said the child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. ""To bring you home, home, home!""

""Home, little Fan?"" returned the boy.

""Yes!"" said the child, brimful of glee. ""Home, for good and all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home's like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And you're to be a man!"" said the child, opening her eyes, ""and are never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the New Life long, and have the merriest time in all the world.""

""You are quite a woman, little Fan!""exclaimed the boy.

She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door; and he, nothing loth to go, accompanied her.

A terrible voice in the hall cried. ""Bring down Master Scrugius's box, there!"" And in the hall appeared the schoolmaster himself, who glared on Master Scrugius with a ferocious condescension, and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and his sister into the veriest old well of a shivering best-parlour that ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy cake, and administered installments of those dainties to the young people: at the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of ""something"" to the postboy, who answered that he thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he had rather not. Master Scrugius's trunk being by this time tied on to the top of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-bye right willingly; and getting into it, drove gaily down the garden-sweep: the quick wheels dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.

""Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered,"" said the Ghost. ""But she had a large heart!""

""So she had,"" cried Scrugius. ""You're right. I'll not gainsay it, Spirit. God forbid!""

""She died a woman,"" said the Ghost, ""and had, as I think, children.""

""One child,"" Scrugius returned.

""True,"" said the Ghost. ""Your nephew!""

Scrugius seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, ""Yes.""

Although they had but that moment left the school behind them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battle for the way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here too it was New Life time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted up.

The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrugius if he knew it.

""Know it!"" said Scrugius. ""Was I apprenticed here?""

They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrugius cried in great excitement:

""Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart; it's Fezziwig alive again!""

Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shows to his organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice:

""Yo ho, there! Ebonius! Erik!""

Scrugius's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow- prentice.

""Erik Wolf-Mane, to be sure,"" said Scrugius to the Ghost. ""Bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Erik. Poor Erik. Dear, dear.""

""Yo ho, my boys!"" said Fezziwig. ""No more work to-night. Old Life, Erik. New Life, Ebonius. Let's have the shutters up,"" cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands.

You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it. They charged into the street with the shutters -- one, two, three -- had them up in their places -- four, five, six -- barred them and pinned then -- seven, eight, nine -- and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like race-horses.

""Hilli-ho!"" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high desk, with wonderful agility. ""Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here. Hilli-ho, Erik! Chirrup, Ebonius.""

Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night.

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, ""Well done!"" and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. But scorning rest, upon his reappearance, he instantly began again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a brand-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful dog, mind! Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs Fezziwig. Top couple too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.

But if they had been twice as many -- ah, four times -- old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher, and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would have become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs Fezziwig had gone all through the dance; advance and retire, both hands to your partner, bow and curtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig cut -- cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger.

When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr and Mrs Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry New Life. When everybody had retired but the two prentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds; which were under a counter in the back-shop.

During the whole of this time, Scrugius had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self and Erik were turned from them, that he remembered the Ghost, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.

""A small matter,"" said the Ghost, ""to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.""

""Small!"" echoed Scrugius.

The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig: and when he had done so, said,

""Why! Is it not! He has spent but a few septims of your mortal money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?""

""It isn't that,"" said Scrugius, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. ""It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.""

He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.

""What is the matter?"" asked the Ghost.

""Nothing in particular,"" said Scrugius.

""Something, I think?"" the Ghost insisted.

""No,"" said Scrugius, ""No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now! That's all.""

His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish; and Scrugius and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.

""My time grows short,"" observed the Spirit. ""Quick!""

This was not addressed to Scrugius, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrugius saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.

He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a mourning-dress: in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of New Life Past.

""It matters little,"" she said, softly. ""To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.""

""What Idol has displaced you?"" he rejoined.

""A golden one.""

""This is the even-handed dealing of the world!"" he said. ""There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit of wealth!""

""You fear the world too much,"" she answered, gently. ""All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?""

""What then?"" he retorted. ""Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you.""

She shook her head.

""Am I?""

""Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. When it was made, you were another man.""

""I was a boy,"" he said impatiently.

""Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are,"" she returned. ""I am. That which promised happiness when we were one in heart, is fraught with misery now that we are two. How often and how keenly I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you.""

""Have I ever sought release?""

""In words? No. Never.""

""In what, then?""

""In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us,"" said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; ""tell me, would you seek me out and try to win me now? Ah, no!""

He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of himself. But he said with a struggle,"" You think not?""

""I would gladly think otherwise if I could,"" she answered, ""Mara knows. When I have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free to-day, to-morrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl -- you who, in your very confidence with her, weigh everything by Gain: or, choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were.""

He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.

""You may -- the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will -- have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen.""

She left him, and they parted.

""Spirit!"" said Scrugius, ""show me no more! Conduct me home. Why do you delight to torture me?""

""One shadow more!"" exclaimed the Ghost.

""No more!"" cried Scrugius! ""No more, I don't wish to see it! Show me no more!""

But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and forced him to observe what happened next.

They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful young girl, so like that last that Scrugius believed it was the same, until he saw her, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, for there were more children there, than Scrugius in his agitated state of mind could count; and, unlike the celebrated herd in the poem, they were not forty children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting itself like forty. The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to one of them. Though I never could have been so rude, no, no! I wouldn't for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, God bless my soul! to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold young brood, I couldn't have done it; I should have expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.

But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet the father, who came home attended by a man laden with New Life toys and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught that was made on the defenceless porter. The scaling him with chairs for ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tight by his cravat, hug him round his neck, pommel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection. The shouts of wonder and delight with which the development of every package was received. The terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting a doll's frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected of having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter. The immense relief of finding this a false alarm. The joy, and gratitude, and ecstasy. They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed, and so subsided.

And now Scrugius looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.

""Belle,"" said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, ""I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon.""

""Who was it?""

""Guess!""

""How can I? Tut, don't I know,"" she added in the same breath, laughing as he laughed. ""Scrugius.""

""Scrugius it was. I passed his office window; and as it was not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I hear; and there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.""

""Spirit!"" said Scrugius in a broken voice, ""remove me from this place.""

""I told you these were shadows of the things that have been,"" said the Ghost. ""That they are what they are, do not blame me!""

""Remove me!"" Scrugius exclaimed, ""I cannot bear it!""

He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it.

""Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!""

In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary, Scrugius observed that its light was burning high and bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him, he seized the extinguisher-cap, and by a sudden action pressed it down upon its head.

The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its whole form; but though Scrugius pressed it down with all his force, he could not hide the light, which streamed from under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground.

He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom. He gave the cap a parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed; and had barely time to reel to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep."
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A New Life Carol, Stave 3
<font size='18'>The Second of the Three Spirits</font>



By

Carius Dicensius</p>
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Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrugius had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger dispatched to him through Jadave Marlhu's intervention. But, finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own hands, and lying down again, established a sharp look-out all round the bed. For, he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise, and made nervous.

Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Scrugius quite as hardily as this, I don't mind calling on you to believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a baby and guar would have astonished him very much.

Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bell struck One, and 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. All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour; and which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at; and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to think -- as you or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too -- at last, I say, he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.

The moment Scrugius's hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.

It was his own room. There was 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. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrifaction of a hearth had never known in Scrugius's time, or Marlhu's, or for many and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls 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 Scrugius, as he came peeping round the door.

""Come in!"" exclaimed the Ghost. ""Come in, and know me better, man.""

Scrugius entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. He was not the dogged Scrugius he had been; and though the Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.

""I am the Ghost of New Life Present,"" said the Spirit. ""Look upon me.""

Scrugius reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.

""You have never seen the like of me before!"" exclaimed the Spirit.

""Never,"" Scrugius made answer to it.

""Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers born in these later years?"" pursued the Phantom.

""I don't think I have,"" said Scrugius. ""I am afraid I have not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?""

""More than eighteen hundred,"" said the Ghost.

""A tremendous family to provide for,"" muttered Scrugius.

The Ghost of New Life Present rose.

""Spirit,"" said Scrugius submissively, ""conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.""

""Touch my robe.""

Scrugius did as he was told, and held it fast.

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on New Life morning, where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses, whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and splitting into artificial little snow-storms.

The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons; furrows that crossed and recrossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets branched off, and made intricate channels, hard to trace in the thick yellow mud and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended in shower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in Tamriel had, by one consent, caught fire, and were blazing away to their dear hearts"" content. There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.

For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball -- better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest -- laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Imperial priests, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers"" benevolence to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and passionless excitement.

The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! Nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses. It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the Breton plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its New Life dress; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for New Life daws to peck at if they chose.

But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrugius beside him in a baker's doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon New Life Day. And so it was. Divines love it, so it was.

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven; where the pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.

""Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?"" asked Scrugius.

""There is. My own.""

""Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?"" asked Scrugius.

""To any kindly given. To a poor one most.""

""Why to a poor one most?"" asked Scrugius.

""Because it needs it most.""

""Spirit,"" said Scrugius, after a moment's thought, ""I wonder you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment.""

""I!"" cried the Spirit.

""You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day, often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all,"" said Scrugius. ""Wouldn't you?""

""I!"" cried the Spirit.

""You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day,"" said Scrugius. ""And it comes to the same thing.""

""I seek!"" exclaimed the Spirit.

""Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in that of your family,"" said Scrugius.

""There are some in this realm of yours,"" returned the Spirit, ""who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.""

Scrugius promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrugius had observed at the baker's), 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.

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 Scrugius's clerk's; for there he went, and took Scrugius with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bjorn Crab-Beard's dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch. Think of that. Bjorn had but fifteen Bjorn a-week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen septims; and yet the Ghost of New Life Present blessed his four-roomed house.

Then up rose Mistress Crab-Beard, Crab-Beard's 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 Crab-Beard, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Piotr Crab-Beard plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bjorn's 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 Crab-Beards, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Crab-Beards danced about the table, and exalted Master Piotr Crab-Beard 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.

""What has ever got your precious father then?"" said Mistress Crab-Beard. ""And your brother, Tiny Thrynn; And Martha warn't as late last New Life Day by half-an-hour.""

""Here's Martha, mother,"" said a girl, appearing as she spoke.

""Here's Martha, mother!"" cried the two young Crab-Beards. ""Hurrah! There's such a goose, Martha!""

""Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!"" said Mistress Crab-Beard, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.

""We'd a deal of work to finish up last night,"" replied the girl, ""and had to clear away this morning, mother.""

""Well. Never mind so long as you are come,"" said Mistress Crab-Beard. ""Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, bless ye.""

""No, no. There's father coming,"" cried the two young Crab-Beards, who were everywhere at once. ""Hide, Martha, hide!""

So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bjorn, 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 Thrynn upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Thrynn, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame.

""Why, where's our Martha?"" cried Bjorn Crab-Beard, looking round.

""Not coming,"" said Mistress Crab-Beard.

""Not coming!"" said Bjorn, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; for he had been Thrynn's blood horse all the way from church, and had come home rampant. ""Not coming upon New Life Day?""

Martha didn't 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 Crab-Beards hustled Tiny Thrynn, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.

""And how did little Thrynn behave?"" asked Mistress Crab-Beard, when she had rallied Bjorn on his credulity, and Bjorn had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.

""As good as gold,"" said Bjorn, ""and 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 New Life Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.""

Bjorn's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Thrynn was growing strong and hearty.

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Thrynn before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to his stool before the fire; and while Bjorn, turning up his cuffs -- as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby -- 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 Piotr, and the two ubiquitous young Crab-Beards went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession.

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 -- and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mistress Crab-Beard made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Piotr mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bjorn took Tiny Thrynn beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Crab-Beards 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. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mistress Crab-Beard, 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 Thrynn, excited by the two young Crab-Beards, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!

There never was such a goose. Bjorn said he didn't 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 Mistress Crab-Beard said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Crab-Beards in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mistress Crab-Beard left the room alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- to take the pudding up and bring it in.

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 -- a supposition at which the two young Crab-Beards became livid? All sorts of horrors were supposed.

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's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding. In half a minute Mistress Crab-Beard entered -- flushed, but smiling proudly -- 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 New Life holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bjorn Crab-Beard said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mistress Crab-Beard since their marriage. Mistress Crab-Beard 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 Crab-Beard would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

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 Crab-Beard family drew round the hearth, in what Bjorn Crab-Beard called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bjorn Crab-Beard's elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.

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

""A Merry New Life to us all, my dears. Gods bless us.""

Which all the family re-echoed.

""Gods bless us every one!"" said Tiny Thrynn, the last of all.

He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bjorn 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.

""Spirit,"" said Scrugius, with an interest he had never felt before,""tell me if Tiny Thrynn will live.""

""I see a vacant seat,"" replied the Ghost, ""in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.""

""No, no,"" said Scrugius. ""Oh, no, kind Spirit. Say he will be spared.""

""If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,"" returned the Ghost, ""will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.""

Scrugius hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.

""Man,"" said the Ghost, ""if 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's child. Oh Gods! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust.""

Scrugius bent before the Ghost's rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.

""Master Scrugius!"" said Bjorn; ""I'll give you Master Scrugius, the Founder of the Feast!""

""The Founder of the Feast indeed!"" cried Mistress Crab-Beard, reddening. ""I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it.""

""My dear,"" said Bjorn, ""the children. New Life Day.""

""It should be New Life Day, I am sure,"" said she, ""on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Master Scrugius. You know he is, Robert. Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow.""

""My dear,"" was Bjorn's mild answer, ""New Life Day.""

""I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's,"" said Mistress Crab-Beard, ""not for his. Long life to him. A merry New Life and a happy new year! -- he'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!""

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Thrynn drank it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrugius 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.

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from the mere relief of Scrugius the Baleful being done with. Bjorn Crab-Beard told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Piotr, which would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Crab-Beards laughed tremendously at the idea of Piotr's being a man of business; and Piotr 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's, 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 Piotr; at which Piotr pulled up his collars so high that you couldn't 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 Thrynn, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.

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 Piotr might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawnbroker's. 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's torch at parting, Scrugius had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Thrynn, until the last.

By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as Scrugius 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's house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them enter -- artful witches, well they knew it -- in a glow.

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. 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 New Life.

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 -- 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.

""What place is this?"" asked Scrugius.

""A place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,"" returned the Spirit. ""But they know me. See.""

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's 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 New Life song -- it had been a very old song when he was a boy -- 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.

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrugius hold his robe, and passing on above the moor, sped -- whither. Not to sea? To sea. To Scrugius's 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.

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 -- born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the water -- 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 New Life 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.

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea -- on, on -- until, being far away, as he told Scrugius, 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 New Life tune, or had a New Life thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone New Life 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.

It was a great surprise to Scrugius, 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 Scrugius, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrugius to recognise it as his own nephew's 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.

""Ha, ha!"" laughed Scrugius's nephew. ""Ha, ha, ha!""

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest in a laugh than Scrugius's nephew, all I can say is, I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I'll cultivate his acquaintance.

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 Scrugius's nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrugius's niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily.

""Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!""

""He said that New Life was a humbug, as I live!"" cried Scrugius's nephew. ""He believed it too.""

""More shame for him, Fred."" said Scrugius's niece, indignantly. Bless those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest.

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made to be kissed -- as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature's head. Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh perfectly satisfactory!

""He's a comical old fellow,"" said Scrugius's nephew, ""that's the truth: and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.""

""I'm sure he is very rich, Fred,"" hinted Scrugius's niece. ""At least you always tell me so.""

""What of that, my dear?"" said Scrugius's nephew. ""His wealth is of no use to him. He don't do any good with it. He don't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satisfaction of thinking -- ha, ha, ha! -- that he is ever going to benefit us with it.""

""I have no patience with him,"" observed Scrugius's niece. Scrugius's niece's sisters, and all the other ladies, expressed the same opinion.

""Oh, I have,"" said Scrugius's nephew. ""I am sorry for him; I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims? Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the consequence? He don't lose much of a dinner.""

""Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner,"" interrupted Scrugius's niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.

""Well. I'm very glad to hear it,"" said Scrugius's nephew, ""because I haven't great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?""

Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrugius's niece's sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrugius's niece's sister -- the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the roses -- blushed.

""Do go on, Fred,"" said Scrugius's niece, clapping her hands. ""He never finishes what he begins to say. He is such a ridiculous fellow.""

Scrugius's nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to keep the infection off; though the plump sister tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example was unanimously followed.

""I was only going to say,"" said Scrugius's nephew,"" that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at New Life till he dies, but he can't help thinking better of it -- I defy him -- if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrugius, how are you. If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty septims, that's something; and I think I shook him yesterday.""

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrugius. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joyously.

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. Scrugius's 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 Scrugius from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of New Life 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's spade that buried Jadave Marlhu.

But they didn't 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 New Life, when its mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop. There was first a game at blind-man's buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and Scrugius's nephew; and that the Ghost of New Life Present knew it. The way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains, wherever she went, there went he. He always knew where the plump sister was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen up against him (as some of them did), on purpose, he would have made a feint of endeavouring to seize you, which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn't fair; and it really was not. But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous. No doubt she told him her opinion of it, when, another blind-man being in office, they were so very confidential together, behind the curtains.

Scrugius's niece was not one of the blind-man's buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrugius were close behind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was very great, and to the secret joy of Scrugius's nephew, beat her sisters hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as could have told you. There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and so did Scrugius, for, wholly forgetting the interest he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrugius; blunt as he took it in his head to be.

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favour, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.

""Here's a new game,"" said Scrugius. ""One half hour, Spirit, only one.""

It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrugius's nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:

""I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!""

""What is it?"" cried Fred.

""It's your Uncle Scrugius!""

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to ""Is it a bear?"" ought to have been ""Yes,"" inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Master Scrugius, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way.

""He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,"" said Fred, ""and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, "" 'Uncle Scrugius!' ""

""Well! Uncle Scrugius!"" they cried.

""A Merry New Life and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is,"" said Scrugius's nephew. ""He wouldn't take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrugius!""

Uncle Scrugius had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.

Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery's every refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast the door and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrugius his precepts.

It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrugius had his doubts of this, because the New Life Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrugius remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrugius had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey.

""Are spirits' lives so short?"" asked Scrugius.

""My life upon this globe, is very brief,"" replied the Ghost. ""It ends to-night.""

""To-night!"" cried Scrugius.

""To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.""

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

""Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,"" said Scrugius, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, ""but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?""

""It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,"" was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. ""Look here.""

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

""Oh, Man, look here! Look, look, down here!"" exclaimed the Ghost.

They were a boy and a girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scrugius started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

""Spirit, are they yours?"" Scrugius could say no more.

""They are Man's,"" said the Spirit, looking down upon them. ""And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!"" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. ""Slander those who tell it ye. Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And abide the end.""

""Have they no refuge or resource?"" cried Scrugius.

""Are there no prisons?"" said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. ""Are there no workhouses?""

The bell struck twelve.

Scrugius looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jadave Marlhu, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him."
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A New Life Carol, Stave 4
<font size='18'>The Last of the Three Spirits</font>



By

Carius Dicensius</p>
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<font size='18'><p align=""left"">
The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it came, Scrugius bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery.

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night, and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.

He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.

""I am in the presence of the Ghost of New Life Yet To Come?"" said Scrugius.

The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand.

""You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us,"" Scrugius pursued. ""Is that so, Spirit?""

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrugius feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. The Spirit pauses a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to recover.

But Scrugius was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

""Ghost of the Future!"" he exclaimed, ""I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?""

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before them.

""Lead on,"" said Scrugius. ""Lead on. The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit.""

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrugius followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along.

They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of its own act. But there they were, in the heart of it; on Change, amongst the merchants; who hurried up and down, and chinked the money in their pockets, and conversed in groups, and looked at their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold seals; and so forth, as Scrugius had seen them often.

The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Scrugius advanced to listen to their talk.

""No,"" said a great fat man with a monstrous chin,"" I don't know much about it, either way. I only know he's dead.""

""When did he die?"" inquired another.

""Last night, I believe.""

""Why, what was the matter with him?"" asked a third, taking a vast quantity of snuff out of a very large snuff-box. ""I thought he'd never die.""

""Mara knows,"" said the first, with a yawn.

""What has he done with his money?"" asked a red-faced gentleman with a pendulous excrescence on the end of his nose, that shook like the gills of a turkey-[censored].

""I haven't heard,"" said the man with the large chin, yawning again. ""Left it to his company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to me. That's all I know.""

This pleasantry was received with a general laugh.

""It's likely to be a very cheap funeral,"" said the same speaker; ""for upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose we make up a party and volunteer?""

""I don't mind going if a lunch is provided,"" observed the gentleman with the excrescence on his nose. ""But I must be fed, if I make one.""

Another laugh.

""Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all,"" said the first speaker,"" for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat lunch. But I'll offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come to think of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn't his most particular friend; for we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, bye.""

Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other groups. Scrugius knew the men, and looked towards the Spirit for an explanation.

The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two persons meeting. Scrugius listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.

He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of aye business: very wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing well in their esteem: in a business point of view, that is; strictly in a business point of view.

""How are you?"" said one.

""How are you?"" returned the other.

""Well!"" said the first. ""Dagon has got his own at last, hey.""

""So I am told,"" returned the second. ""Cold, isn't it.""

""Seasonable for New Life time. You're not a skater, I suppose?""

""No. No. Something else to think of. Good morning.""

Not another word. That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting.

Scrugius was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit should attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial; but feeling assured that they must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Jadave, his old partner, for that was Past, and this Ghost's province was the Future. Nor could he think of any one immediately connected with himself, to whom he could apply them. But nothing doubting that to whomsoever they applied they had some latent moral for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every word he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation that the conduct of his future self would give him the clue he missed, and would render the solution of these riddles easy.

He looked about in that very place for his own image; but another man stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the Porch. It gave him little surprise, however; for he had been revolving in his mind a change of life, and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out in this.

Quiet and dark, beside him stood the Phantom, with its outstretched hand. When he roused himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancied from the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to himself, that the Unseen Eyes were looking at him keenly. It made him shudder, and feel very cold.

They left the busy scene, and went into an obscure part of the town, where Scrugius had never penetrated before, although he recognised its situation, and its bad repute. The ways were foul and narrow; the shops and houses wretched; the people half-naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys and archways, like so many cesspools, disgorged their offenses of smell, and dirt, and life, upon the straggling streets; and the whole quarter reeked with crime, with filth, and misery.

Far in this den of infamous resort, there was a low-browed, beetling shop, below a pent-house roof, where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy offal, were bought. Upon the floor within, were piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few would like to scrutinise were bred and hidden in mountains of unseemly rags, masses of corrupted fat, and sepulchres of bones. Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a charcoal stove, made of old bricks, was a grey-haired rascal, nearly seventy years of age; who had screened himself from the cold air without, by a frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a line; and smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement.

Scrugius and the Phantom came into the presence of this man, just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But she had scarcely entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came in too; and she was closely followed by a man in faded black, who was no less startled by the sight of them, than they had been upon the recognition of each other. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which the old man with the pipe had joined them, they all three burst into a laugh.

""Let the charwoman alone to be the first!"" cried she who had entered first. ""Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, here's a chance. If we haven't all three met here without meaning it!""

""You couldn't have met in a better place,"" said old Joe, removing his pipe from his mouth. ""Come into the parlour. You were made free of it long ago, you know; and the other two an't strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah. How it skreeks. There an't such a rusty bit of metal in the place as its own hinges, I believe; and I'm sure there's no such old bones here, as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our calling, we're well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the parlour.""

The parlour was the space behind the screen of rags. The old man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod, and having trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night), with the stem of his pipe, put it in his mouth again.

While he did this, the woman who had already spoken threw her bundle on the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a stool; crossing her elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold defiance at the other two.

""What odds then. What odds, Mistress Dilber."" said the woman. ""Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did.""

""That's true, indeed,"" said the laundress. ""No man more so.""

""Why then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's coats, I suppose?""

""No, indeed,"" said Mistress Dilber and the man together. ""We should hope not.""

""Very well, then!"" cried the woman. ""That's enough. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose.""

""No, indeed,"" said Mistress Dilber, laughing.

""If he wanted to keep them after he was dead, a wicked old screw,"" pursued the woman, ""why wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his last there, alone by himself.""

""It's the truest word that ever was spoke,"" said Mistress Dilber. ""It's a judgment on him.""

""I wish it was a little heavier judgment,"" replied the woman; ""and it should have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We know pretty well that we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe.""

But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this; and the man in faded black, mounting the breach first, produced his plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a pair of sleeve-buttons, and a brooch of no great value, were all. They were severally examined and appraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was disposed to give for each upon the wall, and added them up into a total when he found there was nothing more to come.

""That's your account,"" said Joe, ""and I wouldn't give another coin, if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?""

Mistress Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same manner.

""I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's the way I ruin myself,"" said old Joe. ""That's your account. If you asked me for another coin, and made it an open question, I'd repent of being so liberal and knock off a septim.""

""And now undo my bundle, Joe,"" said the first woman.

Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff.

""What do you call this?"" said Joe. ""Bed-curtains?""

""Ah!"" returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on her crossed arms. ""Bed-curtains.""

""You don't mean to say you took them down, rings and all, with him lying there?"" said Joe.

""Yes I do,"" replied the woman. ""Why not?""

""You were born to make your fortune,"" said Joe,"" and you'll certainly do it.""

""I certainly shan't hold my hand, when I can get anything in it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as he was, I promise you, Joe,"" returned the woman coolly. ""Don't drop that oil upon the blankets, now.""

""His blankets?"" asked Joe.

""Whose else's do you think?"" replied the woman. ""He isn't likely to take cold without them, I dare say.""

""I hope he didn't die of any thing catching. Eh?"" said old Joe, stopping in his work, and looking up.

""Don't you be afraid of that,"" returned the woman. ""I an't so fond of his company that I'd loiter about him for such things, if he did. Ah. you may look through that shirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it, if it hadn't been for me.""

""What do you call wasting of it?"" asked old Joe.

""Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure,"" replied the woman with a laugh. ""Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If calico an't good enough for such a purpose, it isn't good enough for anything. It's quite as becoming to the body. He can't look uglier than he did in that one.""

Scrugius listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the old man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust, which could hardly have been greater, though they demons, marketing the corpse itself.

""Ha, ha!"" laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing a flannel bag with money in it, told out their several gains upon the ground. ""This is the end of it, you see. He frightened every one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was dead. Ha, ha, ha!""

""Spirit,"" said Scrugius, shuddering from head to foot. ""I see, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now. What is this?""

He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he almost touched a bed: a bare, uncurtained bed: on which, beneath a ragged sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though it was dumb, announced itself in awful language.

The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any accuracy, though Scrugius glanced round it in obedience to a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the body of this man.

Scrugius glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady hand was pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Scrugius's part, would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it; but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismiss the spectre at his side.

Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command: for this is thy dominion. But of the loved, revered, and honoured head, thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand was open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike. And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal!

No voice pronounced these words in Scrugius's ears, and yet he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this man could be raised up now, what would be his foremost thoughts. Avarice, hard-dealing, griping cares. They have brought him to a rich end, truly.

He lay, in the dark empty house, with not a man, a woman, or a child, to say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the memory of one kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was tearing at the door, and there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath the hearth-stone. What they wanted in the room of death, and why they were so restless and disturbed, Scrugius did not dare to think.

""Spirit,."" he said, ""this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go.""

Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head.

""I understand you,"" Scrugius returned, ""and I would do it, if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power.""

Again it seemed to look upon him.

""If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man's death,"" said Scrugius quite agonised, ""show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you.""

The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, like a wing; and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, where a mother and her children were.

She was expecting some one, and with anxious eagerness; for she walked up and down the room; started at every sound; looked out from the window; glanced at the clock; tried, but in vain, to work with her needle; and could hardly bear the voices of the children in their play.

At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to the door, and met her husband; a man whose face was careworn and depressed, though he was young. There was a remarkable expression in it now; a kind of serious delight of which he felt ashamed, and which he struggled to repress.

He sat down to the dinner that had been boarding for him by the fire; and when she asked him faintly what news (which was not until after a long silence), he appeared embarrassed how to answer.

""Is it good."" she said, ""or bad?"" -- to help him.

""Bad,"" he answered.

""We are quite ruined.""

""No. There is hope yet, Carileth.""

""If he relents,"" she said, amazed, ""there is. Nothing is past hope, if such a miracle has happened.""

""He is past relenting,"" said her husband. ""He is dead.""

She was a mild and patient creature if her face spoke truth; but she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry; but the first was the emotion of her heart.

""What the half-drunken woman whom I told you of last night, said to me, when I tried to see him and obtain a week's delay; and what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid me; turns out to have been quite true. He was not only very ill, but dying, then.""

""To whom will our debt be transferred?""

""I don't know. But before that time we shall be ready with the money; and even though we were not, it would be a bad fortune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in his successor. We may sleep to-night with light hearts, Carileth.""

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children's faces hushed, and clustered round to hear what they so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house for this man's death. The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure.

""Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,"" said Scrugius; ""or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.""

The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to his feet; and as they went along, Scrugius looked here and there to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor Bjorn Crab-Beard's house; the dwelling he had visited before; and found the mother and the children seated round the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Crab-Beards were as still as statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Piotr, who had a book before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they were very quiet.

""And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them.""

Where had Scrugius heard those words? He had not dreamed them. The boy must have read them out, as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold. Why did he not go on?

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her face.

""The color hurts my eyes,"" she said.

The color? Ah, poor Tiny Thrynn.

""They're better now again,"" said Crab-Beard's wife. ""It makes them weak by candle-light; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near his time.""

""Past it rather,"" Piotr answered, shutting up his book. ""But I think he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother.""

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once:

""I have known him walk with -- I have known him walk with Tiny Thrynn upon his shoulder, very fast indeed.""

""And so have I,"" cried Piotr. ""Often.""

""And so have I,"" exclaimed another. So had all.

""But he was very light to carry,"" she resumed, intent upon her work, ""and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble -- no trouble. And there is your father at the door!""

She hurried out to meet him; and little Bjorn in his comforter -- he had need of it, poor fellow -- came in. His tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most. Then the two young Crab-Beards got upon his knees and laid, each child a little cheek, against his face, as if they said, ""Don't mind it, father. Don't be grieved.""

Bjorn was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family. He looked at the work upon the table, and praised the industry and speed of Mistress Crab-Beard and the girls. They would be done long before Sundas, he said.

""Sundas. You went to-day, then, Bjorn?"" said his wife.

""Yes, my dear,"" returned Bjorn. ""I wish you could have gone. It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But you'll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sundas. My little, little child!"" cried Bjorn. ""My little child!""

He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart perhaps than they were.

He left the room, and went up-stairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully, and hung with New Life. There was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of some one having been there, lately. Poor Bjorn sat down in it, and when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy.

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother working still. Bjorn told them of the extraordinary kindness of Master Scrugius's nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and who, meeting him in the street that day, and seeing that he looked a little -- ""just a little down you know,"" said Bjorn, inquired what had happened to distress him. ""On which,"" said Bjorn, ""for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard, I told him. 'I am heartily sorry for it, Master Crab-Beard,' he said, 'and heartily sorry for your good wife.' By the bye, how he ever knew that, I don't know.""

""Knew what, my dear?""

""Why, that you were a good wife,"" replied Bjorn.

""Everybody knows that,"" said Piotr.

""Very well observed, my boy!"" cried Bjorn. ""I hope they do. 'Heartily sorry,' he said, 'for your good wife. If I can be of service to you in any way,' he said, giving me his card, 'that's where I live. Pray come to me.' Now, it wasn't,"" cried Bjorn,"" for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us, so much as for his kind way, that this was quite delightful. It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Thrynn, and felt with us.""

""I'm sure he's a good soul,"" said Mistress Crab-Beard.

""You would be surer of it, my dear,"" returned Bjorn, ""if you saw and spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised mark what I say, if he got Piotr a better situation.""

""Only hear that, Piotr,"" said Mistress Crab-Beard.

""And then,"" cried one of the girls, ""Piotr will be keeping company with some one, and setting up for himself.""

""Get along with you!"" retorted Piotr, grinning.

""It's just as likely as not,"" said Bjorn, ""one of these days; though there's plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and when ever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Thrynn -- shall we -- or this first parting that there was among us.""

""Never, father!"" cried they all.

""And I know,"" said Bjorn, ""I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Thrynn in doing it.""

""No, never, father!"" they all cried again.

""I am very happy,"" said little Bjorn, ""I am very happy!""

Mistress Crab-Beard kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young Crab-Beards kissed him, and Piotr and himself shook hands. Spirit of Tiny Thrynn, thy childish essence was from the Divines.

""Spectre,"" said Scrugius, ""something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead.""

The Ghost of New Life Yet To Come conveyed him, as before -- though at a different time, he thought: indeed, there seemed no order in these latter visions, save that they were in the Future -- into the resorts of business men, but showed him not himself. Indeed, the Spirit did not stay for anything, but went straight on, as to the end just now desired, until besought by Scrugius to tarry for a moment.

""This courts,"" said Scrugius, ""through which we hurry now, is where my place of occupation is, and has been for a length of time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come.""

The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.

""The house is yonder,"" Scrugius exclaimed. ""Why do you point away?""

The inexorable finger underwent no change.

Scrugius hastened to the window of his office, and looked in. It was an office still, but not his. The furniture was not the same, and the figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom pointed as before.

He joined it once again, and wondering why and whither he had gone, accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering.

A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy place. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation's death, not life; choked up with too much burying; fat with repleted appetite. A worthy place!

The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One. He advanced towards it trembling. The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its solemn shape.

""Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,"" said Scrugius, ""answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?""

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.

""Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,"" said Scrugius. ""But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me.""

The Spirit was immovable as ever.

Scrugius crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, Ebonius Scrugius.

""Am I that man who lay upon the bed?"" he cried, upon his knees.

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.

""No, Spirit! Oh no, no!""

The finger still was there.

""Spirit!"" he cried, tight clutching at its robe, ""hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?""

For the first time the hand appeared to shake.

""Good Spirit,"" he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it: ""Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life.""

The kind hand trembled.

""I will honour New Life in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!""

In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate aye reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost."
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A New Life Carol, Stave 5
<font size='18'>The End of It</font>



By

Carius Dicensius</p>
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<font size='18'><p align=""left"">
Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!

""I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!"" Scrugius repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. ""The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Jadave Marlhu! Divines, and the New Life Time be praised for this. I say it on my knees, old Jadave, on my knees!""

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears.

""They are not torn down!"" cried Scrugius, folding one of his bed-curtains in his arms, ""they are not torn down, rings and all. They are here -- I am here -- the shadows of the things that would have been, may be dispelled. They will be! I know they will.""

His hands were busy with his garments all this time; turning them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance.

""I don't know what to do!"" cried Scrugius, laughing and crying in the same breath; and making a perfect fool of himself with his stockings. ""I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A merry New Life to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world! Hallo here! Whoop! Hallo!""

He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there: perfectly winded.

""There's the saucepan that the gruel was in!"" cried Scrugius, starting off again, and frisking round the fireplace. ""There's the door, by which the Ghost of Jadave Marlhu entered. There's the corner where the Ghost of New Life Present, sat. There's the window where I saw the wandering Spirits. It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha ha ha!""

Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs.

""I don't know what day of the month it is,"" said Scrugius. ""I don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo here!""

He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell! Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious!

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious!

""What's to-day?"" cried Scrugius, calling downward to a boy in Sundas clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.

""Eh?"" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder.

""What's to-day, my fine fellow?"" said Scrugius.

""To-day?"" replied the boy. ""Why, New Life Day.""

""It's New Life Day!"" said Scrugius to himself. ""I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow!""

""Hallo!"" returned the boy.

""Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the corner?"" Scrugius inquired.

""I should hope I did,"" replied the lad.

""An intelligent boy!"" said Scrugius. ""A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they've sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there -- Not the little prize Turkey: the big one?""

""What, the one as big as me?"" returned the boy.

""What a delightful boy!"" said Scrugius. ""It's a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck.""

""It's hanging there now,"" replied the boy.

""Is it?"" said Scrugius. ""Go and buy it.""

""Be serious!"" exclaimed the boy.

""No, no,"" said Scrugius, ""I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell them to bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come back with the man, and I'll give you a septim. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I'll give you five septims.""

The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast.

""I'll send it to Bjorn Crab-Beard's!"" whispered Scrugius, rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. ""He shan't know who sends it. It's twice the size of Tiny Thrynn."" 

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write it he did, somehow, and went down-stairs to open the street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye.

""I shall love it, as long as I live!"" cried Scrugius, patting it with his hand. ""I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it has in its face. It's a wonderful knocker. -- Here's the Turkey. Hallo! Whoop! How are you? Merry New Life!""

It was a Turkey! He never could have stood upon his legs, that bird. He would have snapped them short off in a minute, like sticks of sealing-wax.

""Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town,"" said Scrugius. ""You must have a cab.""

The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried.

Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much; and shaving requires attention, even when you don't dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a piece of sticking-plaister over it, and been quite satisfied.

He dressed himself all in his best, and at last got out into the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them with the Ghost of New Life Present; and walking with his hands behind him, Scrugius regarded every one with a delighted smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellows said, ""Good morning, sir. A merry New Life to you."" And Scrugius said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears.

He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the portly gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day before, and said, ""Scrugius and Marlhu's, I believe."" It sent a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.

""My dear sir,"" said Scrugius, quickening his pace, and taking the old gentleman by both his hands. ""How do you do. I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A merry New Life to you, sir!""

""Master Scrugius?""

""Yes,"" said Scrugius. ""That is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness"" -- here Scrugius whispered in his ear.

""Lord bless me!"" cried the gentleman, as if his breath were taken away. ""My dear Master Scrugius, are you serious?""

""If you please,"" said Scrugius. ""Not a coin less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favour?""

""My dear sir,"" said the other, shaking hands with him. ""I don't know what to say to such munificence.""

""Don't say anything please,"" retorted Scrugius. ""Come and see me. Will you come and see me?""

""I will!"" cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.

""Thank you,"" said Scrugius. ""I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!""

He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk -- that anything -- could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon he turned his steps towards his nephew's house.

He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it:

""Is your master at home, my dear?"" said Scrugius to the girl. Nice girl. Very.

""Yes, sir.""

""Where is he, my love?"" said Scrugius.

""He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show you up-stairs, if you please.""

""Thank you. He knows me,"" said Scrugius, with his hand already on the dining-room lock. ""I'll go in here, my dear.""

He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see that everything is right.

""Fred!"" said Scrugius.

Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started. Scrugius had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account.

""Why bless my soul!"" cried Fred,"" who's that?""

""It's I. Your uncle Scrugius. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, Fred?""

Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!

But he was early at the office next morning. Oh he was early there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bjorn Crab-Beard coming late! That was the thing he had set his heart upon.

And he did it; yes, he did. The clock struck nine. No Bjorn. A quarter past. No Bjorn. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrugius sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank.

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.

""Hallo,"" growled Scrugius, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could feign it. ""What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?""

""I'm very sorry, sir,"" said Bjorn. ""I am behind my time.""

""You are?"" repeated Scrugius. ""Yes. I think you are. Step this way, if you please.""

""It's only once a year, sir,"" pleaded Bjorn, appearing from the Tank. ""It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir.""

""Now, I'll tell you what, my friend,"" said Scrugius, ""I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,"" he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bjorn such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the Tank again; ""and therefore I am about to raise your salary.""

Bjorn trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrugius down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat.

""A merry New Life, Bjorn,"" said Scrugius, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. ""A merrier New Life, Bjorn, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. I'll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a New Life bowl of smoking bishop, Bjorn. Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bjorn Crab-Beard!""

Scrugius was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Thrynn, 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 heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and 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 New Life well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Thrynn observed, Gods Bless Us, Every One!"
50413129,_WetHSecondPlantingNote,CNAM,0,
50413129,_WetHSecondPlantingNote,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><img src='img://Textures/Interface/Books/Illuminated_Letters/S_letter.png'> 第二種蒔き祭
栽培の月の7日

一度目の種蒔きの際の抱負はもう捨て去りましたか？ 隣人が蒔いた二度目の種が成長するように、あなたの心を成長させる第二の機会が、ここに巡って来ましたよ！

 なお今年の聖堂の無料診療所は、これで最後となります。
</p>"
50519905,_WetHBirthday_Companions1,CNAM,0,
50519905,_WetHBirthday_Companions1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
君はいつでも特別な存在だが
きっと今日だと分かるはずだ
素敵なものが望める日だと
その人生さえ思いのままに

暖かさや愛ある願い
あらゆる幸福や健康
新しい一歩を踏み出すのに
必要なその他全てのものを
全部詰め込み大人になった

誕生日おめでとう！</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='center'>               同胞団より</p>"
50597997,_WetHSaturaliaNightBook,CNAM,0,
50597997,_WetHSaturaliaNightBook,DESC,0,"[pagebreak]
<p align=""center"">


Twas the Night Before Saturalia




By

Carius Dicensius</p>
[pagebreak]
[pagebreak]
<font size='18'><p align=""left"">
Marlhu was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrugius signed it: and Scrugius's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marlhu was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marlhu was as dead as a door-nail.

Scrugius knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrugius and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrugius was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrugius was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.

The mention of Marlhu's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marlhu was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Lysandus died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say Green Emporer Way's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish the Champion's weak mind.

Scrugius never painted out Old Marlhu's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrugius and Marlhu. The firm was known as Scrugius and Marlhu. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrugius Scrugius, and sometimes Marlhu, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.

Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrugius! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at New Life.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrugius. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often ""came down"" handsomely, and Scrugius never did.

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, ""My dear Scrugius, how are you? When will you come to see me?"" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrugius. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, ""No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!""

But what did Scrugius care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call ""nuts"" to Scrugius.

Once upon a time -- of all the good days in the year, on Old Life -- old Scrugius sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already -- it had not been light all day: and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale.

The door of Scrugius's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrugius had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrugius kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed.

""A merry New Life, uncle! God save you!"" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrugius's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

""Bah!"" said Scrugius, ""Humbug!""

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrugius's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.

""New Life a humbug, uncle!"" said Scrugius's nephew. ""You don't mean that, I am sure.""

""I do,"" said Scrugius. ""Merry New Life! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.""

""Come, then,"" returned the nephew gaily. ""What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.""

Scrugius having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said ""Bah!"" again; and followed it up with ""Humbug.""

""Don't be cross, uncle!"" said the nephew.

""What else can I be,"" returned the uncle, ""when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry New Life! Out upon merry New Life! What's New Life time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,"" said Scrugius indignantly, ""every idiot who goes about with 'Merry New Life' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!""

""Uncle!"" pleaded the nephew.

""Nephew!"" returned the uncle, sternly, ""keep New Life in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.""

""Keep it!"" repeated Scrugius's nephew. ""But you don't keep it.""

""Let me leave it alone, then,"" said Scrugius. ""Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!""

""There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,"" returned the nephew. ""New Life among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of New Life time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!""

The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded: becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark for ever.

""Let me hear another sound from you,"" said Scrugius, ""and you'll keep your New Life by losing your situation. You're quite a powerful speaker, sir,"" he added, turning to his nephew. ""I wonder you don't go into Court.""

""Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow.""

Scrugius said that he would see him -- yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.

""But why?"" cried Scrugius's nephew. ""Why?""

""Why did you get married?"" said Scrugius.

""Because I fell in love.""

""Because you fell in love!"" growled Scrugius, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry New Life. ""Good afternoon!""

""Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to New Life, and I'll keep my New Life humour to the last. So A Merry New Life, uncle!""

""Good afternoon,"" said Scrugius.

""And A Happy New Year!""

""Good afternoon!"" said Scrugius.

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the clerk, who cold as he was, was warmer than Scrugius; for he returned them cordially.

""There's another fellow,"" muttered Scrugius; who overheard him: ""my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry New Life. I'll retire to the asylum.""

This lunatic, in letting Scrugius's nephew out, had let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrugius's office. They had books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him.

""Scrugius and Marlhu's, I believe,"" said one of the gentlemen, referring to his list. ""Have I the pleasure of addressing Scrugius or Marlhu?""

""Marlhu has been dead these seven years,"" Scrugius replied. ""He died seven years ago, this very night.""

""We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner,"" said the gentleman, presenting his credentials.

It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word ""liberality,"" Scrugius frowned, and shook his head, and handed the credentials back.

""At this festive season of the year, Scrugius,"" said the gentleman, taking up a pen, ""it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.""

""Are there no prisons?"" asked Scrugius.

""Plenty of prisons,"" said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.

""Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,"" said Scrugius. ""I'm very glad to hear it.""

""Under the impression that they scarcely furnish saintly cheer of mind or body to the multitude,"" returned the gentleman, ""a few of us are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink and means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Want is keenly felt, and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?""

""Nothing!"" Scrugius replied.

""You wish to be anonymous?""

""I wish to be left alone,"" said Scrugius. ""Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at New Life and I can't afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned -- they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there.""

""Many can't go there; and many would rather die.""

""If they would rather die,"" said Scrugius, ""they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides -- excuse me -- I don't know that.""

""But you might know it,"" observed the gentleman.

""It's not my business,"" Scrugius returned. ""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, gentlemen!""

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrugius returned his labours with an improved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than was usual with him.

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so, that people ran about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slyly down at Scrugius out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the main street at the corner of the court, some labourers were repairing the gas-pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered: warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflowing sullenly congealed, and turned to misanthropic ice. The brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled in the lamp heat of the windows, made pale faces ruddy as they passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke; a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to believe that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything to do. Even the little tailor, whom he had fined five septims on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef.

Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrugius's keyhole to regale him with a New Life carol: but at the first note, Scrugius seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost.

At length the hour of shutting up the countinghouse arrived. With an ill-will Scrugius dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat.

""You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?"" said Scrugius.

""If quite convenient, sir.""

""It's not convenient,"" said Scrugius, ""and it's not fair. If I was to stop half-a-septim for it, you'd think yourself ill-used, I'll be bound?""

The clerk smiled faintly.

""And yet,"" said Scrugius, ""you don't think me ill-used, when I pay a day's wages for no work.""

The clerk observed that it was only once a year.

""A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of Evening Star!"" said Scrugius, buttoning his great-coat to the chin. ""But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning.""

The clerk promised that he would; and Scrugius walked out with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his waist (for he boasted no great-coat), went down a slide, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, in honour of its being Old Life, and then ran home as hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's-buff.

Scrugius took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's-book, went home to bed. He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrugius, the other rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that even Scrugius, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gateway of the house, that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather sat in mournful meditation on the threshold.

Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Scrugius had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also that Scrugius had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the Imperial City, even including -- which is a bold word -- the Council. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrugius had not bestowed one thought on Marlhu, since his last mention of his seven years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrugius, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change -- not a knocker, but Marlhu's face.

Marlhu's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrugius as Marlhu used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part or its own expression.

As Scrugius looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.

To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not conscious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his candle.

He did pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door; and he did look cautiously behind it first, as if he half- expected to be terrified with the sight of Marlhu's pigtail sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on, so he said ""Pooh, pooh!"" and closed it with a bang.

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every room above, and every cask in the wine-merchant's cellars below, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own. Scrugius was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall, and up the stairs; slowly too: trimming his candle as he went.

You may talk vaguely about driving a coach-and- six up a good old flight of stairs, but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter-bar towards the wall and the door towards the balustrades: and done it easy. There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare; which is perhaps the reason why Scrugius thought he saw a locomotive hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well, so you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrugius's dip.

Up Scrugius went, not caring a button for that. Darkness is cheap, and Scrugius liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that.

Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber-room. All as they should be. Nobody under the table, nobody under the sofa; a small fire in the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of gruel (Scrugius had a cold in his head) upon the hob. Nobody under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody in his dressing-gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the wall. Lumber-room as usual. Old fire- guards, old shoes, two fish-baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker.

Quite satisfied, he closed his door, and locked himself in; double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus secured against surprise, he took off his cravat; put on his dressing-gown and slippers, and his nightcap; and sat down before the fire to take his gruel.

It was a very low fire indeed; nothing on such a bitter night. He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before he could extract the least sensation of warmth from such a handful of fuel. The fireplace was an old one, built by some foreign merchant long ago, and paved all round with quaint Elven tiles, designed to illustrate the Elder Scrolls. There were hundreds of figures to attract his thoughts -- and yet that face of Marlhu, seven years dead, came like the ancient wizard's staff, and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth tile had been a blank at first, with power to shape some picture on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, there would have been a copy of old Marlhu's head on every one.

""Humbug!"" said Scrugius; and walked across the room.

After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house.

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine merchant's cellar. Scrugius then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.

The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

""It's humbug still!"" said Scrugius. ""I won't believe it.""

His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried, ""I know him; Marlhu's Ghost!"" and fell again.

The same face: the very same. Marlhu in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, and wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Scrugius observed it closely) of cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent, so that Scrugius, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.

Scrugius had often heard it said that Marlhu had no bowels, but he had never believed it until now.

No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.

""How now!"" said Scrugius, caustic and cold as ever. ""What do you want with me?""

""Much!"" -- Marlhu's voice, no doubt about it.

""Who are you?""

""Ask me who I was.""

""Who were you then?"" said Scrugius, raising his voice. ""You're particular, for a shade."" He was going to say ""to a shade,"" but substituted this, as more appropriate.

""In life I was your partner, Jadave Marlhu.""

""Can you -- can you sit down?"" asked Scrugius, looking doubtfully at him.

""I can.""

""Do it then.""

Scrugius asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair; and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were quite used to it.

""You don't believe in me,"" observed the Ghost.

""I don't."" said Scrugius.

""What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?""

""I don't know,"" said Scrugius.

""Why do you doubt your senses?""

""Because,"" said Scrugius, ""a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!""

Scrugius was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.

To sit, staring at those fixed glazed eyes, in silence for a moment, would play, Scrugius felt, the very deuce with him. There was something very awful, too, in the spectre's being provided with an infernal atmosphere of its own. Scrugius could not feel it himself, but this was clearly the case; for though the Ghost sat perfectly motionless, its hair, and skirts, and tassels, were still agitated as by the hot vapour from an oven.

""You see this toothpick?"" said Scrugius, returning quickly to the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert the vision's stony gaze from himself.

""I do,"" replied the Ghost.

""You are not looking at it,"" said Scrugius.

""But I see it,"" said the Ghost, ""notwithstanding.""

""Well!"" returned Scrugius, ""I have but to swallow this, and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you! humbug!""

At this the spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, that Scrugius held on tight to his chair, to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror, when the phantom taking off the bandage round its head, as if it were too warm to wear indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast!

Scrugius fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.

""Mercy!"" he said. ""Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?""

""Man of the worldly mind!"" replied the Ghost, ""do you believe in me or not?""

""I do,"" said Scrugius. ""I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?""

""It is required of every man,"" the Ghost returned, ""that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world -- oh, woe is me! -- and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!""

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.

""You are fettered,"" said Scrugius, trembling. ""Tell me why?""

""I wear the chain I forged in life,"" replied the Ghost. ""I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?""

Scrugius trembled more and more.

""Or would you know,"" pursued the Ghost, ""the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Old Lifes ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!""

Scrugius glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of iron cable: but he could see nothing.

""Jadave,"" he said, imploringly. ""Old Jadave Marlhu, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jadave!""

""I have none to give,"" the Ghost replied. ""It comes from other regions, Ebonius Scrugius, and is conveyed by other ministers, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A very little more, is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond our counting-house -- mark me! -- in life my spirit never roved beyond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole; and weary journeys lie before me!""

It was a habit with Scrugius, whenever he became thoughtful, to put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes, or getting off his knees.

""You must have been very slow about it, Jadave,"" Scrugius observed, in a business-like manner, though with humility and deference.

""Slow!"" the Ghost repeated.

""Seven years dead,"" mused Scrugius. ""And travelling all the time!""

""The whole time,"" said the Ghost. ""No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse.""

""You travel fast?"" said Scrugius.

""On the wings of the wind,"" replied the Ghost.

""You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven years,"" said Scrugius.

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked its chain so hideously in the dead silence of the night, that the Ward would have been justified in indicting it for a nuisance.

""Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,"" cried the phantom, ""not to know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!""

""But you were always a good man of business, Jadave,"" faltered Scrugius, who now began to apply this to himself.

""Business!"" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. ""Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!""

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.

""At this time of the rolling year,"" the spectre said ""I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down!"" 

Scrugius was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.

""Hear me!"" cried the Ghost. ""My time is nearly gone.""

""I will,"" said Scrugius. ""But don't be hard upon me! Don't be flowery, Jadave! Pray!""

""How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day.""

It was not an agreeable idea. Scrugius shivered, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

""That is no light part of my penance,"" pursued the Ghost. ""I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebonius.""

""You were always a good friend to me,"" said Scrugius. ""Thank `ee!""

""You will be haunted,"" resumed the Ghost, ""by Three Spirits.""

Scrugius's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had done.

""Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jadave?"" he demanded, in a faltering voice.

""It is.""

""I -- I think I'd rather not,"" said Scrugius.

""Without their visits,"" said the Ghost, ""you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one.""

""Couldn't I take `em all at once, and have it over, Jadave?"" hinted Scrugius.

""Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!""

When it had said these words, the spectre took its wrapper from the table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrugius knew this, by the smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm.

The apparition walked backward from him; and at every step it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the spectre reached it, it was wide open. It beckoned Scrugius to approach, which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, Marlhu's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no nearer. Scrugius stopped.

Not so much in obedience, as in surprise and fear: for on the raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the air; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret; wailings inexpressibly sorrowful and self- accusatory. The spectre, after listening for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge; and floated out upon the bleak, dark night.

Scrugius followed to the window: desperate in his curiosity. He looked out.

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one of them wore chains like Marlhu's Ghost; some few (they might be guilty governments) were linked together; none were free. Many had been personally known to Scrugius in their lives. He had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried piteously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant, whom it saw below, upon a door-step. The misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded together; and the night became as it had been when he walked home.

Scrugius closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say ""Humbug!"" but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant."
50519906,_WetHBirthday_Winter1,CNAM,0,
50519906,_WetHBirthday_Winter1,DESC,0,"<p align='center'><font face='$HandwrittenFont'><font size='18'>
今宵あなたにかけられるのは
たった8文字の不思議な言葉

特別な日にだけ
特別なあなたに

誰もが知っている
何でもねだれる日

そして、

あなたが来る日も来る日も
欲しがっていた物なあんだ！</p>

<font face='$HandwrittenFont'><p align='right'>ウィンターホール大学より</p>"
50444615,_WetH50OffWarriorsPerk,DESC,0,購入価格が <50>%良くなる。
50443248,_WetH50OffPerk,DESC,0,購入価格が <50>%良くなる。
50563218,_WetHNotice_Heartfire,DESC,0,"薪木の月

3日 - 黄泉返りの日"
50563217,_WetHNotice_LastSeed,DESC,0,"収穫の月

27日 - 収穫感謝祭"
50567377,_WetHNotice_CW,DESC,0,ストームクロークと帝国軍の間の暴力問題が激化してきた為、計画されていた全ての公式祭は、追って通達があるまで保留となっている
50563216,_WetHNotice_SunsHeight,DESC,0,"南中の月

10日 - 商人祭

20日 - 日没感謝祭"
50563215,_WetHNotice_MidYear,DESC,0,"真央の月

16日 - 年央式典日"
50602135,_WetHRandomDate,DESC,0,"Wet and Cold - Holidays

冒険を開始する日時や月などをランダム化しますか？
（注: ヘルゲンから囚人としてスタートする場合、ランダム化はお勧めしません）"
50563214,_WetHNotice_SecondSeed,DESC,0,"栽培の月

7日 - 第二種蒔き祭"
50563213,_WetHNotice_RainsHand,DESC,0,"恵雨の月

28日 - 道化の日"
50563212,_WetHNotice_FirstSeed,DESC,0,"蒔種の月

7日 - 第一種蒔き祭"
50563211,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn,DESC,0,"薄明の月

16日 - 真心の日"
50563210,_WetHNotice_MorningStar,DESC,0,"暁星の月

15日 - 南風の祈祷祭

16日 - 光の祝祭(ドーンスター)"
50563221,_WetHNotice_EveningStar,DESC,0,"星霜の月

15日 - 北風の祈祷祭

25日 - サトゥラリア

31日 - 旧生祭、及び新生祭"
50565981,_WetHNotice_SunsDawn_Windhelm,DESC,0,"薄明の月

13日 - 死者の祝祭(ウィンドヘルム)

16日 - 真心の日"
50563220,_WetHNotice_SunsDusk,DESC,0,"黄昏の月

20日 - 戦士祭"
50563219,_WetHNotice_Frostfall,DESC,0,"降霜の月

- 特に記念日なし -"
50550700,N/A,NAM1,0,Name 1
