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?' 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 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. 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 reversed, he saw
an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and
dwindled down into a bedpost.

STAVE FIVE

[Illustration]

THE END OF IT

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!' Scrooge repeated
as he scrambled out of bed. 'The Spirits of all Three shall strive
within me. O Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be praised for
this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob; 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 Scrooge, 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 wil