Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1902-12-24
sTAvE ONE.
Marley's Ghost.


Marley's Ghost.
Marley was dead, to begin with.
There is no doubt whatever about that.
The register of his burial was signed ey
the clergyman, the clerk, the undertake
err. and the chief mourner. Scrooge
signed it. And Scrooge's name was gooo
upon' Change for anything he chose TO
nut his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door
nail.
Mind. I don't mean to say that |
know. of my own knowledge, what
there is particularly dead about door
nail. might have been inclined, my
self. to regard a coffin nail as the dead
est piece of ironmongery in the trade.
Isuti the wisdom of our ancestors is In
the smile; and my unhallowed hands
shall not disturb it, or the country's
done for. You will therefore permit me
TO repeat, emphatically, that Marley
was as dead as a door-nan
Serooge knew he was dead? Of
course he did. How could 1T be other
wise? Scrooge and he were partners for
don't know how many years. Scrooge
traitor. his sole assign, his sole residuary
legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourn
er. And even Scrooge was not so
dreadfully cut UP by the sad event. put
that he was an excellent man of BUSH
ness on the very day of the funerai' ana
soIemnized 1t with an undoubted bar
gain.
me mention of Marley's funeral
Z A. 1 1y,,{ xsfo y
from. There is no doubt that Marley
was dead. This must be distinctly UNI
derstood, or nothing wonderful can
come of the story am going to relate
III we were not perfectly convinced that
Hainlet's father died before the play
began, there would be nothing more re-
snarkable in his taking stroll at night,
in an easterly wind, upon his own ram
parts, than there would be In any other
middle aged gentleman rashly turning
out after dark In a breezy. spot
Saint Paul's churchyard for instance
literally to astonish sons weak mind.
Serooge never painted out Old Mar
iey's name. There it stood, years after
wards. above the warehouse door:
Scrooge and Marley. The firm was
known as Scrooge and Marley. Some
times people new to the business called
Scrooge Scrooge. and sometimes Mar
ley. but he answered to both names. IL
was all the same to him.
Oh! but he was tight-fisted hand at
the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing,
wrenching, grasping, scraping clutch-
ing. 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,
shriyeled his cheek, stiffened his gait;
made his eyes red, his thin lips blue;
and spoke out shrewdly in his grating
voice A frosty rinle was on his mead,
and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin.
He carried his own low temperature al
ways about him; he iced his office in
the dog-days, and didn't thaw 1t one
degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little In
fiuence on Scrooge. 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
10 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 scrooge never did,
Nobody ever stopped him in the
street to say. with gladstone looks. "My
dear Scrooge, how are you? When will
you come to see me?'' No beggars i'm
plored him to bestow trifle, no chill
t7ren asked him what it was O'Clock, no
man or woman ever once in all his life
incurred the way to such and such a
place, of Scrooge. Even the blind mems
dogs appeared to know him; and, when
they saw him coming on, would tug
their owners into doorways and UP
ceurts: and then would wag their tails
ais tho they said, "No eye at all is bet
ter than an evil eye, dark masteri"
But what did Scrooge care? 1t was the
very thing he liked. To edge his way
along the crowded paths of life, warn
ing all human sympathy to keep its dis
lance, was what the knowing ones call
nuts. to Scrooge.
Once upon a time,-of all the good
days in the year, on Christmas eve,-old
scrooge 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 wheeling up and
down. beating their hands upon their
breasts. and stamping thier 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
fiaring in the windows of the neighbour
ing 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, aithc
the court was of the narrowest, the
houses opposite We're mere pfantoms
To see the dingy cloud come droopine
down. obscuring everything, one Nigh
have thought that Nature lived hard by
and was brewing on large scale.
The door of Scrooge's counting house
was open. that he might keep his eys
utson his clerk. who, In dismal littls
cell beyond, sort of tank, was copyins
letters. Scrooge had a very small fire
but the clerks fire was so very much