The Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to One.

“Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question.  Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the 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.  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.

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and, following the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name,—­EBENEZER SCROOGE.

“Am I that man who lay upon the bed?  No, Spirit!  O no, no!  Spirit! 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?  Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me by an altered life.”

For the first time the kind hand faltered.

“I will honor Christmas 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.  O, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom’s hood and dress.  It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.

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!

He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard.

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head.  No fog, no mist, no night; clear, bright, stirring, golden day!

“What’s to-day?” cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him.

“Eh?”

“What’s to-day, my fine fellow?”

“To-day!  Why, CHRISTMAS DAY.”

“It’s Christmas day!  I haven’t missed it.  Hallo, my fine fellow!”

“Hallo!”

“Do you know the Poulterer’s, in the next street but one, at the corner?”

“I should hope I did.”

“An intelligent boy!  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?”

“What a delightful boy!  It’s a pleasure to talk to him.  Yes, my buck!”

“It’s hanging there now.”

“Is it?  Go and buy it.”

“Walk-ER!"[*] exclaimed the boy.

[* “Walker!” or “Hookey Walker!” means “What a story!”]

“No, no, I am in earnest.  Go and buy it, and tell ’em 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 shilling.  Come back with him in less than five minutes, and I’ll give you half a crown!”