The Last of the Spirits
The Phantom slowly, gravely,[1] silently approached. When it came near him, Scrooge bent down upon his knee; for in the air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom[2] and mystery.
It was shrouded[3] in a deep black garment, which concealed[4] its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved.
“I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come? Ghost of the Future! 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 go with you 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! Lead on! The night is waning[5] fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!”
They were in the heart of the city. The Spirit stopped beside one little group of businessmen. Observing that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced to listen to their talk.
“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? I thought he’d never die.”
“Who knows?” said the first, with a yawn.
“What has he done with his money?” asked a red-faced gentleman.
“I haven’t heard,” said the man with the large chin. “To his company, perhaps. He hasn’t left it to me. That’s all I know. ”
They all laughed.
“It’s likely to be a very cheap funeral,” said the same speaker, “for upon my life I don’t know of anybody who would go to it.”
“I don’t mind going if a lunch is provided,” observed another gentleman. “But I must be fed.”
They all laughed again.
Scrooge was at first surprised that the Spirit should attach importance to conversation apparently so un-important, but feeling assured that it must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. It could hardly be thought to have any importance to the death of Jacob, his old partner, for that was Past, and this Ghost’s specialty was the Future.
They left this busy scene, and went into a hidden part of the town, to a shop where iron, old rags, bottles, bones, and greasy parts of an animal were bought. A gray-haired rascal[6] of great age sat smoking his pipe.
Scrooge 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 came in with bundles, too; and she was closely followed by a man in faded black. They all three burst into a laugh.
“Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always did!” said one woman. “Who’s the worse for the loss of a few things like these? Not a dead man, I suppose.”
“No, indeed, ma’am.”
“If he wanted to keep ’em after he was dead, why wasn’t he normal in his lifetime? If he had been, he’d have had somebody to look after him