TINY TIM.
There was once a man who did not like Christmas. His name was Scrooge,and he was a hard sour-tempered man of business, intent only on savingand making money, and caring nothing for anyone. He paid the poor,hard-working clerk in his office as little as he could possibly get thework done for, and lived on as little as possible himself, alone, in twodismal rooms. He was never merry or comfortable, or happy, and he hatedother people to be so, and that was the reason why he hated Christmas,because people will be happy at Christmas, you know, if they possiblycan.
Well, it was Christmas eve, a very cold and foggy one, and Mr. Scrooge,having given his poor clerk unwilling permission to spend Christmas dayat home, locked up his office and went home himself in a very badtemper. After having taken some gruel as he sat over a miserable fire inhis dismal room, he got into bed, and had some wonderful anddisagreeable dreams, to which we will leave him, whilst we see how TinyTim, the son of his poor clerk, spent Christmas day.
The name of this clerk was Bob Cratchet. He had a wife and five otherchildren beside Tim, who was a weak and delicate little cripple, gentleand patient and loving, with a sweet face of his own, which no one couldhelp looking at.
It was Mr. Cratchet's delight to carry his little boy out on hisshoulder to see the shops and the people; and to-day he had taken him tochurch for the first time.
"Whatever has got your precious father, and your brother Tiny Tim!"exclaimed Mrs. Cratchet, "here's dinner all ready to be dished up. I'venever known him so late on Christmas day before."
"Here he is, mother!" cried Belinda, and "here he is!" cried the otherchildren, as Mr. Cratchet came in, his long comforter hanging three feetfrom under his threadbare coat; for cold as it was the poor clerk had notop-coat. Tiny Tim was perched on his father's shoulder.
"And how did Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchet.
"As good as gold and better," replied his father. "He told me, cominghome, that he hoped the people in church, who saw he was a cripple,would be pleased to remember on Christmas day who it was who made thelame to walk."
"Bless his sweet heart!" said the mother in a trembling voice.
Dinner was waiting to be dished up. Mrs. Cratchet proudly placed a gooseupon the table. Belinda brought in the apple sauce, and Peter the mashedpotatoes; the other children set chairs, Tim's as usual close to hisfather's; and Tim was so excited that he rapped the table with hisknife, and carried "Hurrah." After the goose came the pudding, allablaze, with its sprig of holly in the middle, and was eaten to the lastmorsel; then apples and oranges were set upon the table, and a shovelfulof chestnuts on the fire, and Mr. Cratchet served round some hot sweetstuff out of a jug as they closed round the fire, and said, "A MerryChristmas to us all, my dears, God bless us." "God bless us, every one,"echoed Tiny Tim, and then they drank each other's health, and Mr.Scrooge's health, and told stories and sang songs.
TINY TIM. TINY TIM WAS PERCHED ON HIS FATHER'S SHOULDER.]
Now in one of Mr. Scrooge's dreams on Christmas eve a Christmas spiritshowed him his clerk's home; he saw them all, heard them drink hishealth, and he took special note of Tiny Tim himself.
How Mr. Scrooge spent Christmas day we do not know; but on Christmasnight he had more dreams, and the spirit took him again to his clerk'spoor home.
Upstairs, the father, with his face hidden in his hands, sat beside alittle bed, on which lay a tiny figure, white and still. "Tiny Tim diedbecause his father was too poor to give him what was necessary to makehim well; _you_ kept him poor," said the dream-spirit to Mr. Scrooge.The father kissed the cold, little face on the bed, and wentdown-stairs, where the sprays of holly still remained about the humbleroom; and taking his hat, went out, with a wistful glance at the littlecrutch in the corner as he shut the door. Mr. Scrooge saw all this, but,wonderful to relate, he woke the next morning feeling as he had neverfelt in his life before.
"Why, I am as light as a feather, and as happy as an angel, and as merryas a schoolboy," he said to himself. "I hope everybody had a merryChristmas, and here's a happy New Year to all the world."
Poor Bob Cratchet crept into the office a few minutes late, expecting tobe scolded for it, but his master was there with his back to a goodfire, and actually smiling, and he shook hands with his clerk, tellinghim heartily he was going to raise his salary, and asking quiteaffectionately after Tiny Tim! "And mind you make up a good fire in yourroom before you set to work, Bob," he said, as he closed his own door.
Bob could hardly believe his eyes and ears, but it was all true. Suchdoings as they had on New Year's day had never been seen before in theCratchet's home, nor such a turkey as Mr. Scrooge sent them for dinner.Tiny Tim had his share too, for Tiny Tim did not die, not a bit of it.Mr. Scrooge was a second father to him from that day, he wanted fornothing, and grew up strong and hearty. Mr. Scrooge loved him, and wellhe might, for was it not Tiny Tim who had unconsciously, through theChristmas dream-spirit, touched his hard heart, and caused him to becomea good and happy man?