UN CANTA DE NATAL
Prefasa · Strofe 1 · Strofe 2 · Strofe 3 · Strofe 4 · Strofe 5

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Strofe 3: La seguente de la tre spiritos

Stave III: The Second of the Three Spirits

Veliante a media de un ronca enorme forte, e sentante se en sua leto per colie sua pensas, Scrooge ave no posible de es informada ce la campana es denova a la punto de sona la ora Un. El senti ce el ia es revenida a consensia a esata la bon momento per la intende spesial de fa un conversa con la mesajor du cual es enviada a el par la interveni de Jacob Marley. Ma, trovante ce el deveni noncomfortosa fria cuando el comensa demanda a se cual de sua cortinas esta fantasma nova va retira, el tira cada de los a lado par sua propre manos; e, denova reposante, el manteni un vijila atendosa sirca la leto en tota dirijes, car el desira defia la fantasma a la momento cuando lo apare, e el no desira ce la fantasma surprende el e fa ce el deveni nervosa.

Awaking in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the second messenger despatched to him through Jacob Marley’s intervention. But finding that he turned uncomfortably cold when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new spectre would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own hands; and lying down again, established a sharp look-out all round the bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the moment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise, and made nervous.

Seniores de un spesie nonformal e laxe, ci es multe orgulosa de conose un bon cuantia de modos de ata, e ci es noncomun preparada per fronti la acasos de la dia, espresa la estende larga de sua capasia de aventura par comenta ce los es capas de tota cosas entre asasinas e juas de “fas o retro”; e entre acel estremas oposante, on ave sin duta un estende de temas tolerable larga e completa. Sin osa dise ce Scrooge es tan dur como esta, me no oposa demanda ce tu crede ce el es preparada per un campo bon vasta de apares strana, e ce no cosa entre un bebe e un rinosero ta stona vera multe el.

Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves on being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for adventure by observing that they are good for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter; between which opposite extremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive range of subjects. Without venturing for Scrooge quite as hardily as this, I don’t mind calling on you to believe that he was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished him very much.

Ma, car el es preparada per cuasi cualce cosa, el es preparada a no grado per no cosa; e donce, cuando la campana sona la ora Un e no forma apare, el es saisida par un ataca violente de tremas. Sinco minutos, des minutos, un cuatri de un ora pasa, ma no cosa veni. Tra tota esta tempo el reclina sur sua leto, vera a la cor e sentro de un arde de lus sanguin roja, cual ia comensa flue sur el cuando la orolojo ia proclama la ora, e cual – car lo es no plu ca lus – es plu alarmante ca un desduple de fantasmas, car el no es capas de descovre sua sinifia o intende; e, a veses, el es ansiosa ce cisa el deveni a esata acel momento un caso interesante de combusta spontan, sin la consola de es consensa de esta.

Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bell struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came. All this time, he lay upon his bed, the very core and centre of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour; and which, being only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at; and was sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment an interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having the consolation of knowing it.

An tal, final, el comensa pensa – como tu o me ta pensa prima; car la person ci no es en un situa difisil es sempre la person ci sabe la bon modo de ata en acel situa, e ta ata ance tal, sin duta – final, me dise, el comensa pensa ce cisa la fonte e secreta de esta lus fantasmin es en la sala visina, de cual, cuando el segue lo plu, lo pare ce lo brilia. Cuando esta idea ocupa plen sua mente, el leva se en un modo cuieta, e pasea en sua pantoflas, tirante sua pedes, asta la porte.

At last, however, he began to think – as you or I would have thought at first; for it is always the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it too – at last, I say, he began to think that the source and secret of this ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers to the door.

Direta cuando la mano de Scrooge es sur la securador, un vose strana clama el par sua nom, e comanda ce el entra. El obedi.

The moment Scrooge’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by his name, and bade him enter. He obeyed.

La sala es sua propre. Ave no duta de esta. Ma lo ia esperia un cambia surprendente. La mures e sofito es covreda par tan multe pendentes de verde vivente ce lo aspeta esata como un bosce, con bacas briliante cual sintili a cada parte de lo. La folias frajil de ilex, viscio e edera refleta la lus como si on ia sperde ala un cuantia simil de mirores peti; e un incandese plu forte asende rujinte en la ximineria, plu ca acel strutur de petra sombre ia conose a cualce tempo en la eda de Scrooge, o en acel de Marley, o en multe multe saisones invernal pasada.

It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green, that it looked a perfect grove; from every part of which, bright gleaming berries glistened. The crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there; and such a mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney, as that dull petrification of a hearth had never known in Scrooge’s time, or Marley’s, or for many and many a winter season gone.

Pilada sur la solo, per formi un spesie de trono, on ave pavos, gansos, avias savaje, avias domada, ceso de testa, pesos grande de carne, porcetas a mamela, garlandas longa de salsixes, tartetas de fruta secida, deseres festosa, bariles de ostras, castanias roja calda, pomas con jenas serisin, oranias jusosa, peras dulse, tortas enorme de la sera de Res, e boles de ponxe bolinte cual nebli la cambra con sua vapor deletosa. En un state reposante sur esta sofa, un jigante felis es sentante, gloriosa per vide, ci porta un torxa briliante, de cual sua forma es simil a la corno de Abunda, e ci leva esta a alta afin el lansa sua lus sur Scrooge, cuando el apare cauta a la porta.

Heaped up on the floor, to form a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this couch, there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see; who bore a glowing torch, in shape not unlike Plenty’s horn, and held it up, high up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the door.

“Entra!” – la fantasma esclama – “Entra, e conose me en un modo plu bon, umana!”

“Come in!” exclaimed the Ghost. “Come in! and know me better, man!”

Scrooge entra timida, e basi sua testa ante esta spirito. El no es la Scrooge ostinosa de la pasada; e, an si la oios de la spirito es clar e amable, el no vole encontra los.

Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the Spirit’s eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them.

“Me es la Fantasma de Natal Presente.” – la spirito dise – “Regarda me!”

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said the Spirit. “Look upon me!”

Scrooge obedi respetosa. La spirito es vestida en un roba, o jaca, simple e verde, con pelo blanca a sua bordas. Esta veste pende tan laxe sur la figur ce sua peto larga es nuda, como si lo despeta es protejeda o ascondeda par cualce artifis. Sua pedes, oservable su la multe plias de la veste, es ance nuda; e sur sua testa el porta no covrente plu ca un garlanda de ilex, decorada asi e ala par spinas de jelo briliante. Sua risas oscur brun es longa e libre; libre como sua fas amin, sua oio sintilinte, sua mano abrida, sua vose felis, sua condui nonconstrinjeda, e sua umor joiosa. Ensircante sua media, el ave un portaspada antica; ma lo conteni no spada, e la gaina antica es consumada par osidi.

Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment hung so loosely on the figure, that its capacious breast was bare, as if disdaining to be warded or concealed by any artifice. Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were also bare; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly wreath, set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown curls were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard; but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten up with rust.

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“Tu ia vide nunca a ante un simil a me!” – la spirito esclama.

“You have never seen the like of me before!” exclaimed the Spirit.

“Nunca.” – Scrooge responde a lo.

“Never,” Scrooge made answer to it.

“Tu ia pasea nunca con la membros plu joven de mea familia? Me intende (car me es multe joven) mea frates plu vea ci ia nase en esta anios plu tarde.” – la fantasma continua.

“Have never walked forth with the younger members of my family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers born in these later years?” pursued the Phantom.

“Me no crede ce me ia fa.” – Scrooge dise. – “Me regrete ce no. Tu ia ave multe frates, spirito?”

“I don’t think I have,” said Scrooge. “I am afraid I have not. Have you had many brothers, Spirit?”

“Plu ce des-oto sento.” – la fantasma dise.

“More than eighteen hundred,” said the Ghost.

“Un familia enorme si on debe nuri los!” – Scrooge murmura.

“A tremendous family to provide for!” muttered Scrooge.

La Fantasma de Natal Presente leva se.

The Ghost of Christmas Present rose.

“Spirito,” – Scrooge dise sedente – “gida me do tu vole. Me ia es obligada de sorti a la note pasada, e me ia aprende un leson cual opera aora. A esta note, si tu ave alga cosa per ensenia a me, ta ce lo benefica me.”

“Spirit,” said Scrooge submissively, “conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it.”

“Toca mea roba!”

“Touch my robe!”

Scrooge segue la comanda, e teni fisada lo.

Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast.

Ilex, viscio, bacas roja, edera, pavos, gansos, avias, ceso, carne, porcetas, salsixes, ostras, tartetas, deseres, frutas e ponxe – tota desapare direta. La sala, la foco, la lus roja, e la ora de note fa simil, e los sta en la stradas de la site a la matina de natal, do (car la clima es sever) la persones fa un musica de un spesie ru, ma enerjiosa e no nonplasente, en raspa la neva de la paseria ante sua abitadas, e de la tetos de sua casas, de do lo desende plufinte a la via a su, en un deleta fol per la xicos ci vide lo dividente se en tempestas peti artifis.

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on Christmas morning, where (for the weather was severe) the people made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant kind of music, in scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses, whence it was mad delight to the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and splitting into artificial little snow-storms.

La frontes de la casas aspeta alga negra, e la fenetras an plu negra, en contrasta con la telon lisa de neva blanca sur la tetos, e con la neva plu susia sur la tera. Esta deponeda ultima es ja aradida en sulcas profonda par la rotas pesosa de caros e vagones, sulcas cual crusa e recrusa la un la otra a sentos de veses do la stradas grande rami a via, e cual formi canales complicada, difisil per segue en la fango densa jala e la acua jelin.

The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs, and with the dirtier snow upon the ground; which last deposit had been ploughed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and waggons; furrows that crossed and re-crossed each other hundreds of times where the great streets branched off; and made intricate channels, hard to trace in the thick yellow mud and icy water.

La sielo es sombre, e la stradas la plu corta es sofocada par un nebleta oscur, partal dejelada, partal jelada, de cual sua particulas la plu pesosa desende en un pluveta de atomes carbonosa, como si tota la ximines en Britan ia ensende se par acorda comun, e arde aora per sasia sua cores cara. On ave no cosa multe felis en la clima o la vila, e, an tal, on ave jeneral un umor de felisia cual la aira la plu clar de estate e la sol la plu briliante de estate ta labora futil per rari.

The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, and were blazing away to their dear hearts’ content. There was nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air and brightest summer sun might have endeavoured to diffuse in vain.

Car la persones ci labora con sua palas sur la tetos es amin e plen de joia; los esclama a lunlotra de la parapetos, e intercambia de tempo a tempo un bal de neva bromosa – un misil de un umor vera plu bon ca multe bromas parolosa – riente zelosa si lo colpa sua gol, e no min zelosa si lo vaga.

For, the people who were shovelling away on the housetops were jovial and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball – better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest – laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if it went wrong.

Un dui de la botecas de la carnores de avia es ancora abrida, e los de la frutores es radiante en sua gloria. On ave sestos grande, ronda e obesa de castanias, formida como la jacetas de seniores vea e joiosa, laxe reposante a la portes e cadente a estra en la strada en sua ricia malada. On ave oniones de Espania, con fases roja brun e taies larga, briliante en la obesia de sua crese como monces espaniol e, en ruses promiscua, giniante de sua scafales a la xicas ci pasa e fa regardetas modesta a la viscio pendente.

The poulterers’ shops were still half open, and the fruiterers’ were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe.

On ave peras e pomas, alta grupida en piramides radiante; on ave colies de uvas cual la botecores, con bonvole, ia suspende de oncas fasil vidable, afin la bocas de la persones pote salivi sin custa cuando los pasa; on ave montones de nozetas, muscin e brun, cual recorda par sua bon odor paseas antica en la bosces, e pantoflis plasente tra folias secida tan profonda como la talos; on ave pomas de Norfolk, truncin e oscur, relevante la jala de la oranias e limones, e, par la compatia intensa de sua corpos jusosa, forte preante e mendicante ce on porta los a casa en sacos de paper e come los per deser.

There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers’ benevolence to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people’s mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squat and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.

An la pexes oro e arjento, esibida en un bol entre esta frutas desirable, an si los es membros de un raza stupida de sangue staniante, pare sabe ce alga cosa aveni; e cadun de la pexes vade con boca abrida, sempre sirculinte sirca sua mundo peti con stimula lenta e nonpasionosa.

The very gold and silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there was something going on; and, to a fish, went gasping round and round their little world in slow and passionless excitement.

La comedores! O, la comedores! Sua botecas es cuasi cluida, con cisa du covrefenetras fisada, o un; ma tra acel bucos, on videta cosas tan bela! Esta no es sola car la balansa cadente sur la table fa un sona joiosa, o car la cordeta es tan enerjiosa separada de sua rola, o car on secute la jares a supra e a su como trucos de jogla, o an car la odores miscada de te e cafe es tan grasiada par la nas, o an car la uvas seca es tan abundante e estracomun, la amandas es tan estrema blanca, la bastetas de canela es tan longa e reta, la otra spises es tan deletosa, e la frutas confetida es tan crostida e manxada par zucar fondeda ce la regardores la plu fria ave un senti de desmaia e, a pos, de nausea.

The Grocers’! oh, the Grocers’! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious.

E lo no es car la figas es umida e pulposa, o car la prunas franses roji en asidia modesta de sua caxas multe ornosa, o car tota es bon comable e porta sua vestes de natal. Ma tota la clientes es tan fretosa e tan zelosa ante la promete esperosa de la dia ce los luta contra lunlotra a la porte, colpante savaje sua sestos de vim, e lasa sua compradas sur la table de vende, e reveni corente per retrae los, e fa sentos de eras simil en la umor la plu bon posible, an cuando la comedor e sua persones es tan franca e fresca ce la cores de cuoro briliante con cual los fisa la retros de sua faldones ta pote es sua propre cores, portada a estra per la esamina jeneral e per nuri la corvos a natal si estas desira.

Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.

Ma pronto la pinaculos clama tota bon persones a eglesa o egleseta, e los veni a via, pasante tra la stradas como un manada en sua vestes la plu bon, e con sua fases la plu felis. E, a la mesma tempo, persones noncontable emerji de desduples de stradetas, ruetas, e vias sin nom, portante sua comes a la fornores.

But soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers’ shops.

Lo pare ce la vide de esta selebrores povre interesa vera multe la spirito, car el sta, con Scrooge a sua lado, su la arco de porte de un fornor e, levante la covrentes cuando la portores pasa, sperde insenso de sua torxa sur sua comes. E esta es un torxa de un spesie multe noncomun, car a un o du veses, cuando on ave parolas coler entre alga portores de come ci ia xoca contra lunlotra, el versa alga gotas de acua sur los de lo, e sua bon umor es direta restorada – car los dise ce un disputa a la dia de natal ta es vergoniosa. E lo ta es vera tal! Par la bondise de Dio, lo ta es vera tal!

The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge beside him in a baker’s doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!

Pos alga tempo la campanas sesa, e la fornores clui sua botecas; e on ave ancora un sujesta amin de tota esta comes, e de la progresa de sua coce, en la manxa moiada e dejelada supra la forno de cada fornor, do la paseria fumi como si sua petras es ance cocente.

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker’s oven; where the pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.

“Esce on ave un sabor spesial en esta cual tu sperde de tua torxa?” – Scrooge demanda.

“Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?” asked Scrooge.

“Si. Mea propre.”

“There is. My own.”

“Lo ta aplica a cualce spesie de come a esta dia?” – Scrooge demanda.

“Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?” asked Scrooge.

“A cualce cual es amable donada, e la plu a la comes povre.”

“To any kindly given. To a poor one most.”

“Perce la plu a la povres?” – Scrooge demanda.

“Why to a poor one most?” asked Scrooge.

“Car los nesesa la plu lo.”

“Because it needs it most.”

“Spirito,” – Scrooge dise, pos un momento de pensa – “me es stonada ce tu, entre tota la esentes en la multe mundos sirca nos, ta desira restrinje la oportunes de esta persones per plaser inosente.”

“Spirit,” said Scrooge, after a moment’s thought, “I wonder you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire to cramp these people’s opportunities of innocent enjoyment.”

“Me?” – la spirito cria.

“I!” cried the Spirit.

“Tu ta priva los de sua metodo de come a cada dia sete, cual es comun la sola dia a cual on pote dise ce los come an poca.” – Scrooge dise – “Lo es vera, no?”

“You would deprive them of their means of dining every seventh day, often the only day on which they can be said to dine at all,” said Scrooge. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Me?” – la Spirito cria.

“I!” cried the Spirit.

“Tu vole clui esta locas a la dia sete, no?” – Scrooge dise – “E esta dona la mesma resulta.”

“You seek to close these places on the Seventh Day?” said Scrooge. “And it comes to the same thing.”

Me vole?” – la spirito esclama.

I seek!” exclaimed the Spirit.

“Pardona me si me era. On ia fa esta su tua nom, o a la min su la nom de tua familia.” – Scrooge dise.

“Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or at least in that of your family,” said Scrooge.

“On ave alga persones sur esta tera do tu abita” – la spirito responde – “ci declara ce los conose nos, e ci fa su nosa nom sua atas de pasion, orgulo, malvole, odia, invia, prejudi e egosia, ci es tan stranjer a nos e a tota de nosa relatadas como si los ia vive nunca. Recorda esta, e culpa los, no nos, per la atas cual los fa.”

“There are some upon this earth of yours,” returned the Spirit, “who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.”

Scrooge promete ce el va fa esta; e los continua, nonvidable, como los ia es a ante, en la suburbes de la vila. Un cualia notable de la fantasma (cual Scrooge ia oserva ja a la fornor) es ce, an con sua grandia jigante, el pote ajusta se a cada loca en un modo fasil, e ce el sta su un teto basa en un modo egal tan refinada e simil a un creada supranatural como lo es posible ce el ta es capas de fa en cualce salon alta.

Scrooge promised that he would; and they went on, invisible, as they had been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed at the baker’s), that notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to any place with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like a supernatural creature, as it was possible he could have done in any lofty hall.

E cisa par causa de la plaser cual la bon spiritio ave en mostra esta sua potia, o, si no, par causa de sua propre natur amable, jenerosa e zelosa, el es gidada direta a la casa de la secretor de Scrooge – car el vade ala, e prende con el Scrooge, teninte se a sua roba; e, sur la grado de la porte, la spirito surie, e para per bondise la abitada de Bob Cratchit par un sperde de sua torxa. Imajina acel! En cada semana, Bob mesma ave sola des-sinco “bobes”, como on nomi la xilinges; en saturdis el poxi sola des-sinco esemplos de sua nom individua; e, an tal, la Fantasma de Natal Presente bondise sua casa de cuatro salas!

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in showing off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and his sympathy with all poor men, that led him straight to Scrooge’s clerk’s; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit’s dwelling with the sprinkling of his torch. Think of that! Bob had but fifteen “Bob” a-week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays but fifteen copies of his Christian name; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house!

Alora Seniora Cratchit, la sposa de Cratchit, leva se, vestida en sola un modo povre en un roba reversada ja a du veses, ma bela en sintas, cual es barata e furni un bon aspeta contra ses sentimes. E el pone la telon sur la table, aidada par Belinda Cratchit, sua fia du, ance bela en sintas, en cuando Senioreto Peter Cratchit puxa un force en la caserol de patatas, reseta en sua boca la angulos de la colar monstrin de sua camisa (la propria privata de Bob, prestada a sua fio e eritor per onora la dia), joia de trova ce el es tan merveliosa vestida, e anela esibi sua vestes en la parces modosa.

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit’s wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt collar (Bob’s private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honour of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable Parks.

E aora du membros plu peti de la familia Cratchit, un xico e un xica, entra con un core rapida, xiliante ce los ia ole la ganso estra la fornor, e ia reconose lo como sua propre. E reposante en la plaser de pensas lusosa de salvia e onion, esta Cratchites peti dansa sirca la table e loda Peter Cratchit a la sielos cuando el (no orgulosa, an si sua colares es cuasi sufocante el) sofla la foco, asta cuando la patatas lenta bolante bateta forte a la covrecaserol afin on libri e descasci los.

And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker’s they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.

“Alora, cual en la mundo ia retarda tua padre amada?” – Seniora Cratchit dise – “E tua frate, Pico Tim! E Martha no ia es tan tarda, par un dui de un ora, a la dia de natal pasada?”

“What has ever got your precious father then?” said Mrs. Cratchit. “And your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn’t as late last Christmas Day by half-an-hour?”

“Martha es asi, madre!” – un xica dise, aparente an cuando el parla.

“Here’s Martha, mother!” said a girl, appearing as she spoke.

“Martha es asi, madre!” – la du Cratchites joven esclama – “Ura! Ave un ganso tan bon, Martha!”

“Here’s Martha, mother!” cried the two young Cratchits. “Hurrah! There’s such a goose, Martha!”

“Ma ta ce Dio bondise tua cor, mea cara, tu es tan tarda!” – Seniora Cratchit dise, besante el a un desduple de veses, e desponente sua xal e xapeta per el con zelo favorente.

“Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!” said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.

“Nos ia ave multe labora per completi a la note pasada” – la xica responde – “e ia debe reordina a esta matina, madre!”

“We’d a deal of work to finish up last night,” replied the girl, “and had to clear away this morning, mother!”

“Bon! Acel no importa plu, car tu ia ariva.” – Seniora Cratchit dise – “Senta tu ante la foco, mea cara, e caldi tu, ta ce Dio bondise tu!”

“Well! Never mind so long as you are come,” said Mrs. Cratchit. “Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!”

“No, no! Padre veni ala.” – la du Cratchites joven cria, ci pare en tota locas a cada momento – “Asconde, Martha, asconde!”

“No, no! There’s father coming,” cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. “Hide, Martha, hide!”

Donce Martha asconde se, e Bob entra, la padre peti, con a la min un metre de scarfa de lana, escluinte la franje, pendente ante el, e con sua vestes gastada, reparada e brosida per conveni a la tempo de festa, e con Pico Tim sur sua spala. Ai per Pico Tim: el porta un muleta peti, e ave sua brasos suportada par un strutur de fero!

So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!

“Ma do es nosa Martha?” – Bob Cratchit esclama, regardante sirca se.

“Why, where’s our Martha?” cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.

“El no veni.” – Seniora Cratchit dise.

“Not coming,” said Mrs. Cratchit.

“No veni?” – Bob dise, con un declina subita en sua spiritos alta, car el ia servi como cavalo de corsa per Tim tra tota la via de la eglesa, e el ia veni estasiosa a casa – “No veni a la dia de natal?”

“Not coming!” said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; for he had been Tim’s blood horse all the way from church, and had come home rampant. “Not coming upon Christmas Day!”

Martha no gusta vide ce el es deludeda, an si sola per un broma, donce el sorti prematur de pos la porte de la saleta, e core a sua brasos, en cuando la du Cratchites joven saisi Pico Tim, e porta el a via a la laveria afin el pote oia la deser cantante en la caldera de cupre.

Martha didn’t like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.

“E como Tim peti ia condui?” – Seniora Cratchit demanda, pos cuando el ia broma sur la credosia de Bob, e Bob ia abrasa sua fia tan multe como sasia sua cor.

“And how did little Tim behave?” asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content.

“Tan bon como un anjel,” – Bob dise – “an plu bon. En alga modo el deveni pensosa, tan multe sentante en solitaria, e pensa la cosas la plu strana cual on ia oia. Veninte a casa, el ia dise a me ce el espera ce la persones ia vide el en la eglesa, car el es descapasida, e cisa lo va plase los si los recorda, a la dia de natal, ci ia fa ce la mendicores coxeante pasea e ce la siecas vide.”

“As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”

La vose de Bob es tremante cuando el dise esta a los, e el trema an plu cuando el dise ce Pico Tim deveni forte e vivosa.

Bob’s voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.

On oia sua muleta peti e ativa sur la solo, e Pico Tim reveni ante la vosi de un plu parola, gidada par sua frate e sore a sua sejeta ante la foco; e en cuando Bob, retirante sua polsos de manga – como si, la povre, los ta es capas de deveni plu gastada – crea un misca calda en un carafa con jin e limones, jira lo en sirculis e sirculos, e pone lo sur la cornisa de foco per boli lenta, Senioreto Peter, e la du Cratchites joven e sempre presente sorti per trae la ganso, con cual los reveni pronto en un prosede diniosa.

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs – as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby – compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer; Master Peter, and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession.

Tan multe ativia segue ce on ta pote crede ce un ganso es la plu rara de tota avias, un fenomeno plumosa a cual un sinie negra ta pare como un cosa normal – e vera un ganso es de un tal spesie en acel casa.

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course – and in truth it was something very like it in that house.

Seniora Cratchit fa ce la salsa de carne (ja preparada en un caserol) deveni sisante calda; Senioreto Peter maxa la patatas con enerjia noncredable; Senioreta Belinda dulsi la salsa de poma; Martha despolvi la platos calda; Bob prende Pico Tim a sua lado en un angulo pico a la table; la du Cratchites joven pone sejas per cadun, sin oblida se, e comensante a sua postos de garda, los pleni sua bocas con culieres, per impedi se de xilia per ganso ante la ariva de sua turno de servi.

Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped.

Final on pone la platos sur la table, e dise la prea de grasias. Esta es segueda par un pausa sin respira cuando Seniora Cratchit, lenta regardante longo la cotel de carne, prepara puxa lo en la peto; ma cuando el fa esta, e cuando la jeta de pleninte longa espetada apare, un murmura de deleta leva se sirca tota la table, e an Pico Tim, stimulada par la du Cratchites joven, bate la table con la manico de sua cotel e cria debil – “Ura!”

At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!

On ia ave nunca un tal ganso. Bob dise ce el crede ce on ia coce nunca un tal ganso. Sua teneria e sabor, sua grandia e baratia, es la temas de amira universal. Durada par salsa de poma e patatas maxada, lo es un come sufisinte per tota la familia; vera, como Seniora Cratchit dise con deleta grande (studiante un atom peti de un oso sur la plato), los no ia come tota de lo, an a la fini! Ma cadun ia come sasiante, e spesial la Cratchites la plu joven es saturada en salvia en onion asta sua suprasiles!

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows!

Ma aora, cuando la platos es cambiada par Senioreta Belinda, Seniora Cratchit sorti solitar de la sala – tro ansiosa per tolera atestores – per prende la deser e porta lo a interna.

But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone – too nervous to bear witnesses – to take the pudding up and bring it in.

Imajina si lo no ta es sufisinte bolida! Imajina si lo ta rompe cuando on estrae lo! Imajina si algun ia trepa a traversa de la mur de la patio retro e fura lo, cuando los ia es divertinte se con la ganso – un suposa a cual la du Cratchites joven deveni furiosa! On imajina terores de tota spesies.

Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose – a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed.

U! Un cuantia grande de vapor! La deser sorti de la caldera. Un odor como un dia de lava! Acel es la tela. Un odor como un restorante e un boteca de tartes, la un a lado de la otra, con un laveria a lado de los! Acel es la deser! Pos un dui de un minuto, Seniora Cratchit entra – roja, ma con un surie orgulosa – con la deser como un bal de canon con manxetas, tan dur e firma, ardente en un des-sesi de un otigalon de coniac ensendeda, e decorada con ilex de natal plantada en sua culmina.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook’s next door to each other, with a laundress’s next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered – flushed, but smiling proudly – with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

O, un deser merveliosa! Bob Cratchit dise, e an calma, ce el regarda lo como la susede la plu grande cual Seniora Cratchit ia ateni de pos sua sposi. Seniora Cratchit dise ce, con la ansia aora prendeda de sua mente, el confesa ce el ia ave alga dutas sur la cuantia de farina. Cadun ave alga cosa per dise sur la deser, ma nun dise o pensa ce lo es en cualce modo un deser peti per un familia grande. Lo ta es simple erese si on ta fa acel. Cualce Cratchit ta roji a an un indiceta de un tal cosa.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

Final la come es completida, la table es reordinada, la ximineria es scopida, e la foco es reviveda. Pos cuando on ia proba la misca en la carafa e ia judi ce lo es perfeta, on pone pomas e oranias sur la table, e un plenipala de castanias sur la foco. Alora tota la familia Cratchit asembla sirca la ximineria, en un forma cual Bob Cratchit nomi un sirculo, intendente un dui de acel; e a la codo de Bob Cratchit on ave un esibi de la vitros de la familia: du vitros de bevi, e un copa de crema sin manico.

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of glass. Two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle.

An tal, estas porta la licuida calda de la carafa tan bon como copas de oro ta fa; e Bob distribui lo con oios radiante, en cuando la castanias sur la foco balbuta e craci ruidosa. Alora Bob fa un tosta:

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:

“Un bon natal a tota de nos, mea caras. Ta ce Dio bondise nos!”

“A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!”

E tota la familia fa la eco de esta.

Which all the family re-echoed.

“Ta ce Dio bondise nos, an cadun!” – Pico Tim dise, la ultima de tota.

“God bless us every one!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

El senta multe prosima a la lado de sua padre sur sua sejeta peti. Bob teni sua peti mano atrofiada en sua propre, como si el ama la enfante e desira reteni el a sua lado, e teme ce cisa sua fio va es prendeda de el.

He sat very close to his father’s side upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.

“Spirito,” – Scrooge dise, con un interesa cual el ia senti nunca a ante – “dise a me si Pico Tim va vive.”

“Spirit,” said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, “tell me if Tiny Tim will live.”

“Me vide un seja vacua” – la fantasma responde – “en la angulo de la ximineria povre, e un muleta sin posesor, conservada con cura. Si esta ombras resta noncambiada par la futur, la enfante va mori.”

“I see a vacant seat,” replied the Ghost, “in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.”

“No, no.” – Scrooge dise – “O, no, spirito amin! Dise ce el va es salvada.”

“No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.”

“Si esta ombras resta noncambiada par la futur, no otra de mea raza” – la fantasma replica – “va trova el asi. E donce? Si el prefere mori, ta ce el fa, e redui la suprapasa de popla.”

“If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,” returned the Ghost, “will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”

Scrooge basi sua testa a oia la sita de sua propre parolas par la spirito, e es vinseda par repenti e tristia.

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.

“Umana,” – la fantasma dise – “si tu es umana en tua cor, e no petrin, ta ce tu reserva acel linguaje malvolente asta cuando tu ia descovre la natur e la loca de la suprapasa. Esce tu ta deside ci va vive, ci va mori? Lo pote es ce, en la oios de Dio, tu ave min valua e min merita de vive ca miliones simil a la enfante de esta om povre. Bon Dio! On oia la inseto sur la folia declara ce on ave tro multe viventes entre sua frates fame en la polvo!”

“Man,” said the Ghost, “if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man’s child. Oh God! to hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!”

Scrooge inclina ante la reproxa de la fantasma e dirije sua regarda a la tera en un modo tremante. Ma el leva lo rapida cuando el oia sua propre nom.

Scrooge bent before the Ghost’s rebuke, and trembling cast his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hearing his own name.

“Senior Scrooge!” – Bob dise – “Me ta tosta Senior Scrooge, la fundor de la banceta!”

“Mr. Scrooge!” said Bob; “I’ll give you Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!”

“La fundor de la banceta, apena!” – Seniora Cratchit esclama, rojinte – “Me vole ce el ta es asi. Me ta servi un banceta de mea opinas a el, e me espera ce el ta ave un bon apetito per los.”

“The Founder of the Feast indeed!” cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. “I wish I had him here. I’d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, and I hope he’d have a good appetite for it.”

“Mea cara,” – Bob dise – “la enfantes! La dia de natal!”

“My dear,” said Bob, “the children! Christmas Day.”

“Natural a la dia de natal, me es serta,” – el dise – “on tosta la sania de un om tan odiable, avar, dur e nonsentosa como Senior Scrooge. Tu sabe ce el es tal, Robert! Nun sabe lo plu clar ca tu, mea povre!”

“It should be Christmas Day, I am sure,” said she, “on which one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows it better than you do, poor fellow!”

“Mea cara,” – es la responde jentil de Bob – “la dia de natal.”

“My dear,” was Bob’s mild answer, “Christmas Day.”

“Me va tosta sua sania per la benefica de tu e de la dia,” – Seniora Cratchit dise – “ma no de el. Ta ce el vive longa! Un natal joiosa e un anio felis! El va es multe joiosa e multe felis, me ave no duta!”

“I’ll drink his health for your sake and the Day’s,” said Mrs. Cratchit, “not for his. Long life to him! A merry Christmas and a happy new year! He’ll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!”

La enfantes bevi la tosta pos el. Esta es la prima de sua prosedes cual ave no zelo. Pico Tim bevi ultima de tota, ma el no gusta an un gota de el. Scrooge es la ogro de la familia. La refere a sua nom fa ce un ombra oscur desende sur la selebra, cual on susede desapare sola pos sinco minutos longa.

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their proceedings which had no heartiness. Tiny Tim drank it last of all, but he didn’t care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full five minutes.

Pos la pasa de la ombra, los es plu joiosa a des veses ca a ante, lejerida sola car los ia fini trata Scrooge la Malvolente. Bob Cratchit informa los ce el previde un posto per Senioreto Peter cual, si otenida, va trae a la casa no min ca sinco xilinges e un dui per semana. La du Cratchites joven rie enorme a la idea ce Peter va deveni un om de comersia; e Peter mesma regarda pensosa la foco de entre sua colares, como si el discute con se cual investis el va favore spesial cuando el comensa reseta acel revenu confondente.

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter’s being a man of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments he should favour when he came into the receipt of that bewildering income.

Alora Martha, ci es un aprendor povre a un xapor, informa los sur la spesie de labora cual el debe fa, e tra cuanto oras el labora en segue, e como el intende doman resta en sua leto a la matina per un bon reposa longa, car doman es un festa cual el va spende a casa. El ajunta ce el ia vide un contesa e un baron ante alga dias, e ce la baron “ia ave un altia simil a Peter”, a cual Peter leva tan alta sua colares ce tu no ta pote vide sua testa si tu ta es presente.

Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner’s, then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the lord “was much about as tall as Peter;” at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that you couldn’t have seen his head if you had been there.

Tra tota esta tempo, la castanias e la carafa sirculi en sirculos; e pos un tempo los oia un canta, sur un enfante perdeda ci viaja en la neva, de Pico Tim, ci ave un vose peti e triste, e ci canta vera multe bon lo.

All this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and by-and-bye they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well indeed.

On ave no cualia de la sosia alta en esta. Los no es un familia bela; los no es bon vestida; sua sapatos no es an partal secur contra acua; sua vestes es nonsufisinte; e Peter conose posible, e vera an probable, la interna de un impenieria. Ma los es felis, grasiosa, plaseda par lunlotra, e contente con la tempo; e cuando los pali, e aspeta an plu felis en la sperdes briliante de la torxa de la spirito partinte, Scrooge fisa sua regarda a los, e spesial a Pico Tim, asta la fini.

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were far from being water-proof; their clothes were scanty; and Peter might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawnbroker’s. But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one another, and contented with the time; and when they faded, and looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit’s torch at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on Tiny Tim, until the last.

A esta tempo, lo deveni ja oscur, e lo neva alga forte; e, an cuando Scrooge e la spirito vade longo la stradas, la brilia de la focos es merveliosa, rujinte en cosinas, salones e salas de tota spesies.

By this time it was getting dark, and snowing pretty heavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, parlours, and all sorts of rooms, was wonderful.

Asi, la incandese dansante mostra preparas per un come peti e comfortosa, con platos calda cual on forni penetrante ante la foco, e cortinas oscur roja, preparada per retira contra fria e oscuria. Ala, tota la enfantes de la casa sorti corente en la neva per encontra sua sores e frates sposida, sua cusines, tios e tias, e per es la prima ci saluta los.

Here, the flickering of the blaze showed preparations for a cosy dinner, with hot plates baking through and through before the fire, and deep red curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There all the children of the house were running out into the snow to meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and be the first to greet them.

Asi, denova, on ave ombras sur la cortina enrolable de visitores ci asembla; e, ala, un grupo de xicas bela, tota en capetas e botas de pelo, e tota parlante a la mesma tempo, brinca lejera a la casa de alga visina prosima – do cada om nonsposida es nonfortunosa si el vide los entra – esta sorsores rusosa – radiante!

Here, again, were shadows on the window-blind of guests assembling; and there a group of handsome girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering at once, tripped lightly off to some near neighbour’s house; where, woe upon the single man who saw them enter – artful witches, well they knew it – in a glow!

Si tu ta judi par la cuantias de persones ci vade a asemblas amin, tu ta crede cisa ce nun resta a casa per bonveni los cuando los ariva ala; ma, en loca, cada casa espeta visitores, e pila sua focos a un dui de la altia de la ximine.

But, if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was at home to give them welcome when they got there, instead of every house expecting company, and piling up its fires half-chimney high.

Bondise lo, la fantasma selebra tan multe! Tan multe lo revela la largia de sua peto, e abri sua palma spasiosa, e flota plu, versante, con un mano jenerosa, sua joia briliante e inosente sur tota cosas cual lo pote ateni! La ensendelampa mesma, ci core ante los, ajuntante puntos de lus a la strada negra, e ci es vestida per spende un sera en alga loca, esplode en un rie forte cuando la spirito pasa, an si la ensendelampa sabe poca ce el es acompaniada par no plu ca la natal personida!

Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted! How it bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capacious palm, and floated on, outpouring, with a generous hand, its bright and harmless mirth on everything within its reach! The very lamplighter, who ran on before, dotting the dusky street with specks of light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed, though little kenned the lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas!

E aora, sin an un parola de averti par la fantasma, los sta sur un stepe sombre e vacua, do masas monstrin de petra ru es sperdeda, como si esta es la semetero de jigantes; e acua estende se a cualce locas cual lo eleje – o ta fa esta si lo no ta es prisonida par la jelada; e no cosa crese estra mos e ulex, e erba spesa e alta. Basa en la ueste, la sol ia lasa un raio de roja focin cual arde ferose supra la deserto tra un momento, como un oio malumorosa, de cual sua suprasiles sempre plu basinte, e ancora plu, deveni perdeda en la sombria densa de un note la plu oscur.

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they stood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial-place of giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed, or would have done so, but for the frost that held it prisoner; and nothing grew but moss and furze, and coarse rank grass. Down in the west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, which glared upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frowning lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest night.

“Cual loca es esta?” – Scrooge demanda.

“What place is this?” asked Scrooge.

“Un loca do escavores abita, ci labora en la ventre de la tera.” – la spirito responde. – “Ma los conose me. Vide!”

“A place where Miners live, who labour in the bowels of the earth,” returned the Spirit. “But they know me. See!”

Un lus brilia de la fenetra de un cabana, e los avansa rapida en sua dirije. Pos pasa tra la mur de fango e petra, los trova un grupo felis asemblada sirca la brilieta de un foco: un om e fem multe vea, con sua enfantes e la enfantes de sua enfantes, e un plu jenera ultra acel, tota decorada en un modo vivosa en sua vestes de festa. La om vea, en un vose cual suprapasa rara la ulula de la venta sur la deserto steril, fa un canta de natal per los – lo ia es ja un canta multe vea cuando el ia es un xico – e, de tempo a tempo, tota de los junta se en la refren. Sempre cuando los leva sua voses, la vose de la om vea deveni multe joiosa e forte; e sempre cuando los para, sua enerjia diminui denova.

A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they advanced towards it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. An old, old man and woman, with their children and their children’s children, and another generation beyond that, all decked out gaily in their holiday attire. The old man, in a voice that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren waste, was singing them a Christmas song – it had been a very old song when he was a boy – and from time to time they all joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the old man got quite blithe and loud; and so surely as they stopped, his vigour sank again.

La spirito no permane asi, ma comanda ce Scrooge teni sua roba, e, continuante supra la stepe, freta – a do? No a la mar? A la mar. A la teror de Scrooge, regardante a retro, el vide pos los la fini de la tera, un cadena asustante de rocas; e sua oreas es sordida par la tona de acua cual rola e ruji, e coleri entre la cavones temable cual lo ia erode ja, e atenta ferose sumina la tera.

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, and passing on above the moor, sped – whither? Not to sea? To sea. To Scrooge’s horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled and roared, and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely tried to undermine the earth.

Construida sur un resife triste de rocas su la mar, a sirca un lega de la costa, rocas sur cual la acuas frica e crase tra tota la anio savaje, un faro solitar sta. Montones grande de alges adere a sua funda, e avias de tempesta – enfantes de la venta, on ta suposa, como alges es de la acua – leva e cade sirca lo, como la ondas supra cual los lisca.

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of sea-weed clung to its base, and storm-birds – born of the wind one might suppose, as sea-weed of the water – rose and fell about it, like the waves they skimmed.

Ma, an asi, du omes ci manteni la lus ia crea un foco cual, tra la buco streta en la mur de petra spesa, lansa un raio de brilia sur la mar asustante. Juntante sua manos dur supra la table ru a cual los senta, los desira un bon natal a lunlotra, bevinte de sua balde de rum diluida; e un de los – ance la plu vea, con sua fas tan danada e sicatrisida par la clima dur como on imajina la figur de proa de un barcon vea – inisia un canta cual mesma es tan forte como un venton.

But even here, two men who watched the light had made a fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of them: the elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hard weather, as the figure-head of an old ship might be: struck up a sturdy song that was like a Gale in itself.

Denova la fantasma freta plu, supra la mar de ondas negra – plu, plu – asta cuando, distante de cualce costa, como el dise a Scrooge, los desende sur un barcon. Los sta a lado de la timonor a la rota, la vijilor en la proa, la ofisiores ci fa la vijila; figures oscur e fantasmin en sua locas diversa; ma cadun entre los zumbi un melodia de natal, o pensa sur natal, o parla en un vose basa a sua acompanior sur alga dia de natal pasada, con esperas asosiada de reveni a casa. E cadun sur la barcon, veliada o dorminte, bon o mal, ia espresa sua opina de un otra en un modo plu amin a acel dia ca a cualce dia en la anio; e ia comparti la festosia de la dia a alga grado; e ia recorda la persones distante ci el cura, e ia sabe ce los deleta en recorda el.

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea – on, on – until, being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the wheel, the look-out in the bow, the officers who had the watch; dark, ghostly figures in their several stations; but every man among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known that they delighted to remember him.

Lo es un surprende grande a Scrooge, ci escuta la jemi de la venta, e pensa ce el esperia un stona temosa en sua progresa tra la oscuria abandonada supra un profonda nonconoseda, conteninte secretas tan nonpenetrable como la moria – lo es un surprende grande a Scrooge, ci es ocupada en esta modo, cuando el oia un rie zelosa. Lo es un surprende multe plu grande a Scrooge cuando el reconose esta como la rie de sua propre sobrino, e trova se en un sala luminada, seca e briliante, do la spirito sta suriente a sua lado e regarda acel mesma sobrino con amablia aprobante!

It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moaning of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, whose depths were secrets as profound as Death: it was a great surprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognise it as his own nephew’s and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at that same nephew with approving affability!

“Ha ha!” – la sobrino de Scrooge rie – “Ha ha ha!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Scrooge’s nephew. “Ha, ha, ha!”

Si cisa tu conose, par alga acaso nonprobable, un om furnida con un rie plu bon ca la sobrino de Scrooge, me pote dise sola esta: me ta gusta ance conose el. Presenta el a me, e me va cultiva sua acompania.

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man more blest in a laugh than Scrooge’s nephew, all I can say is, I should like to know him too. Introduce him to me, and I’ll cultivate his acquaintance.

La mundo es ajustada en un modo justa, nobil e nonprejudosa, car, an si maladia e tristia es infetante, on ave no cosa sur la tera cual es tan nonresistable comunicada como la ries e la bon umor. Cuando la sobrino de Scrooge rie en esta modo – teninte sua lados, rolante sua testa, e torsente sua fas en contorses la plu estravagante – la sobrina de Scrooge par sposi rie tan zelosa como el. E sua amis asemblada, con an no un pico de retarda, ruji en ries enerjiosa.

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good-humour. When Scrooge’s nephew laughed in this way: holding his sides, rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant contortions: Scrooge’s niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily as he. And their assembled friends being not a bit behindhand, roared out lustily.

“Ha ha! Ha ha ha ha!”

“Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

“El ia dise ce la natal es babela, me jura!” – la sobrino de Scrooge esclama – “E el ia crede ance lo!”

“He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!” cried Scrooge’s nephew. “He believed it too!”

“Plu vergonia per el, Fred!” – la sobrina de Scrooge dise, indiniada. Ta ce on bondise acel femes; los condui nunca a grado partal. Los es sempre seria.

“More shame for him, Fred!” said Scrooge’s niece, indignantly. Bless those women; they never do anything by halves. They are always in earnest.

La sobrina es multe bela: estrema bela, con un fas eselente con indentes de surie e un aspeta surprendeda; un boca peti e matur cual pare creada afin on besa lo – como on fa, sin duta; tota spesies de bon puntos peti sirca sua menton cual fonde con lunlotra cuando el rie; e un duple de oios plu joiosa ca on ta vide en la testa de cualce creada peti. En resoma, el es de un spesie cual on ta nomi provocante, tu sabe; ma ance sasiante. O, perfeta sasiante.

She was very pretty: exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, surprised-looking, capital face; a ripe little mouth, that seemed made to be kissed – as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she laughed; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little creature’s head. Altogether she was what you would have called provoking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satisfactory.

“Acel vea es un om comica,” – la sobrino dise – “acel es la vera: e el no es tan plasente como el ta pote es. An tal, sua ofendes porta sua propre punis, e me ave no cosa per dise contra el.”

“He’s a comical old fellow,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “that’s the truth: and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his offences carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say against him.”

“Me es serta ce el es multe rica, Fred.” – la sobrina sujesta – “A la min, tu dise sempre acel a me.”

“I’m sure he is very rich, Fred,” hinted Scrooge’s niece. “At least you always tell me so.”

“Como acel importa, mea cara?” – la sobrino dise – “Sua ricia ave no valua per el. El no usa lo per fa bon. El no usa lo per fa ce el es comfortosa. El no ave la sasia de pensa – ha ha ha! – ce el va usa lo per benefica nos a un tempo futur.”

“What of that, my dear!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “His wealth is of no use to him. He don’t do any good with it. He don’t make himself comfortable with it. He hasn’t the satisfaction of thinking – ha, ha, ha! – that he is ever going to benefit us with it.”

“Me no pote tolera el.” – la sobrina comenta. La sores de la sobrina de Scrooge, e tota la otra femes, espresa la mesma opina.

“I have no patience with him,” observed Scrooge’s niece. Scrooge’s niece’s sisters, and all the other ladies, expressed the same opinion.

“O, me pote!” – la sobrino dise – “Me compatia el; me no ta pote es coler contra el, an si me ta atenta. Ci sufri par sua mal caprises? El mesma, sempre. Vide, el pone en sua testa ce el no gusta nos, e el no va veni per come con nos. Cual es la resulta? El no perde plu ca un come magra.”

“Oh, I have!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “I am sorry for him; I couldn’t be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill whims! Himself, always. Here, he takes it into his head to dislike us, and he won’t come and dine with us. What’s the consequence? He don’t lose much of a dinner.”

“Vera, me crede ce el perde un come multe bon.” – la sobrina interompe. Tota la otras dise la mesma, e on debe aseta ce los es judores capas, car los es a fini de sua come, e, con la deser sur la table, los es grupida sirca la foco en la lus de lampas.

“Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner,” interrupted Scrooge’s niece. Everybody else said the same, and they must be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had just had dinner; and, with the dessert upon the table, were clustered round the fire, by lamplight.

“Bon! Me es multe felis de oia lo,” – la sobrino dise – “car me no fida multe esta manejores joven de casa. Como tua opina, Topper?”

“Well! I’m very glad to hear it,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “because I haven’t great faith in these young housekeepers. What do you say, Topper?”

Clar, Topper ia pone ja sua regarda sur un de la sores de la sobrina de Scrooge, car el responde ce un om nonsposida es misera escluida, ci ave no direto de espresa un opina sur la tema. A esta, la sore de la sobrina de Scrooge – la sore ronda con la covrepeto de dentela, no el con la rosas – roji.

Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge’s niece’s sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat Scrooge’s niece’s sister – the plump one with the lace tucker: not the one with the roses – blushed.

“Dise plu, Fred.” – la sobrina dise, batente sua manos – “El fini nunca lo cual el comensa dise! El es un om tan riable!”

“Do go on, Fred,” said Scrooge’s niece, clapping her hands. “He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridiculous fellow!”

La sobrino de Scrooge deleta se en un rie nova, e, car combate la infeta es nonposible – an si la sore ronda atenta forte fa esta par ensofla vinagra bonodorinte – on segue la esemplo de la sobrino sin eseta.

Scrooge’s nephew revelled in another laugh, and as it was impossible to keep the infection off; though the plump sister tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar; his example was unanimously followed.

“Me ia intende dise sola” – la sobrino de Scrooge dise – “ce la resulta de la fato ce el no gusta nos, e no condui joiosa con nos, es ce el perde alga momentos plasente cual no ta pote feri el. Me es serta ce el perde acompaniores plu plasente ca el pote trova en sua propre pensas, o en sua vea ofisia mofosa, o en sua cambras polvosa. Me intende dona la mesma oportun a el a cada anio, si el gusta o no, car me compatia el. Cisa el va protesta contra natal asta sua mori, ma el no pote evita boni sua opina de lo – me defia el – si el trova ce me visita el, en bon umor, a cada anio sin eseta, e dise: ‘Tio Scrooge, como lo vade?’ Si esta fa no plu ca pone el en un umor de vole dona sincodes paundes a sua secretor, acel es ja alga cosa. E me pensa ce me ia secute el ier.”

“I was only going to say,” said Scrooge’s nephew, “that the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his mouldy old office, or his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can’t help thinking better of it – I defy him – if he finds me going there, in good temper, year after year, and saying Uncle Scrooge, how are you? If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk fifty pounds, that’s something; and I think I shook him yesterday.”

Lo es aora la turno de la otras de rie a la idea ce el ia secute Scrooge. Ma car el ave un carater eselente, e no multe ansia de sabe perce los rie – tal ce los rie a el an ante el – el coraji los en sua festosia, e sirculi joiosa la botela.

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking Scrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much caring what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joyously.

Pos te, los fa alga musica, car los es un familia musical de capasia eselente cuando los canta un gli o un ronda, me declara a tu – spesial Topper ci pote ronca basa como un bon baso, inflante nunca la venas grande en sua fronte, e no deveninte roja en sua fas como resulta.

After tea, they had some music. For they were a musical family, and knew what they were about, when they sung a Glee or Catch, I can assure you: especially Topper, who could growl away in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his forehead, or get red in the face over it.

La sobrina de Scrooge toca bon la arpa, e aora el produi, entre otra melodias, un aira peti e simple (vera trivial: on ta pote aprende sibila lo en sola du minutos) cual ia es conoseda a la enfante ci ia retrae Scrooge de sua scola de abita, como la Fantasma de Natal Pasada ia fa ce el recorda. Cuando esta melodia musical sona, tota la cosas cual acel fantasma ia mostra a el reveni en sua mente; el deveni sempre plu mol; e el crede ce, si el ia pote escuta lo frecuente, ante anios, cisa el ta pote cultiva la amables de la vive per sua propre felisia par sua propre manos, sin debe usa la pala de tomba cual ia entera Jacob Marley.

Scrooge’s niece played well upon the harp; and played among other tunes a simple little air (a mere nothing: you might learn to whistle it in two minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched Scrooge from the boarding-school, as he had been reminded by the Ghost of Christmas Past. When this strain of music sounded, all the things that Ghost had shown him, came upon his mind; he softened more and more; and thought that if he could have listened to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the kindnesses of life for his own happiness with his own hands, without resorting to the sexton’s spade that buried Jacob Marley.

Ma los no dedica la sera intera a musica. Pos un tempo, los fa la jua de multas – car lo es bon si on condui a veses como enfantes, e nunca plu bon ca a natal, cuando sua fundor mesma potiosa ia es un enfante. Para! On fa prima un jua de la sieca. Natural on fa acel. E me crede ce Topper es vera sieca no plu ca me crede ce el ave oios en sua botas. Mea opina es ce un acorda esiste entre el e la sobrino de Scrooge, e ce la Fantasma de Natal Presente sabe lo.

But they didn’t devote the whole evening to music. After a while they played at forfeits; for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop! There was first a game at blind-man’s buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots. My opinion is, that it was a done thing between him and Scrooge’s nephew; and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it.

La modo en cual el xasa acel sore ronda en la covrepeto de dentela es un scandal contra la credosia de la natur umana. Cadente la utiles de foco, voltante contra la sejas, xocante contra la piano, sofocante se entre la cortinas – lo no importa do la sore vade, Topper vade ance! El sabe sempre do la sore ronda es. El no vole catura cualce otra person. Si tu ta cade intendente contra el (como alga de los fa), el ta fa un finje de atenta saisi tu – cual ta es un insulta a tua capasia de comprende – e el ta vade direta ladal en dirije a la sore ronda. La sore esclama frecuente ce la jua no es justa; e vera lo no es.

The way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker, was an outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping against the piano, smothering himself among the curtains, wherever she went, there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He wouldn’t catch anybody else. If you had fallen up against him (as some of them did), on purpose, he would have made a feint of endeavouring to seize you, which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried out that it wasn’t fair; and it really was not.

Ma, cuando final el catura el, cuando, an con tota sua xuxas de seda e sua voletas rapida per evita el, Topper trapi el en un angulo de do el ave no posible de evade, alora sua condui es la plu odiable – car sua finje ce el no reconose la sore, e sua finje ce el nesesa palpa sua moda de capeles, e deveni plu serta de sua identia par presa un anelo reconosable sur sua dito, e un cadena reconosable sirca sua colo, es vil e monstrin! Me no duta ce la sore dona a Topper sua opina de esta cuando, con un otra person aora ocupante la posto de la sieca, los es tan multe privata con lunlotra, pos la cortinas.

But when at last, he caught her; when, in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutterings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape; then his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her; his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head-dress, and further to assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and a certain chain about her neck; was vile, monstrous! No doubt she told him her opinion of it, when, another blind-man being in office, they were so very confidential together, behind the curtains.

La sobrina de Scrooge no es un de los ci fa la jua de la sieca, ma el es comfortada par un seja grande e un reposapede, en un angulo compata, do la fantasma e Scrooge sta prosima pos el. Ma el partisipa en la jua de multas, e el jua amirable a “me ama mea amada” con tota leteras de la alfabeta. Simil, el es estrema bon a la jua de “como, cuando, do?” e, a la joia secreta de la sobrino de Scrooge, el vinse fasil contra sua sores – an si estas es ance xicas capas, como Topper ta pote informa.

Scrooge’s niece was not one of the blind-man’s buff party, but was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admiration with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of How, When, and Where, she was very great, and to the secret joy of Scrooge’s nephew, beat her sisters hollow: though they were sharp girls too, as Topper could have told you.

On ave cisa dudes persones ala, joven e vea, ma tota de los jua – como Scrooge ance, car, con la interesa cual el ave en la avenis, el oblida plen ce sua vose fa no sona en sua oreas, e a veses el revela sua divina en un vose alga forte, e sua divinas es ance intera coreta a multe veses; car la ago la plu agu, la plu bon de Whitechapel, garantiada per no talia la filo par sua oio, no es plu agu ca Scrooge, an en la francia nonagu con cual el tende condui.

There might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all played, and so did Scrooge; for wholly forgetting in the interest he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and very often guessed quite right, too; for the sharpest needle, best Whitechapel, warranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge; blunt as he took it in his head to be.

La fantasma es multe plaseda de trova el en esta umor, e lo regarda el con tan multe favore ce Scrooge mendica como un xico per es permeteda de resta asta la parti de la visitores. Ma la spirito dise ce esta no es posible.

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood, and looked upon him with such favour, that he begged like a boy to be allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said could not be done.

“On ave asi un jua nova.” – Scrooge dise – “Un dui de un ora, spirito, sola un!”

“Here is a new game,” said Scrooge. “One half hour, Spirit, only one!”

Lo es un jua nomida “si e no”, do la sobrino de Scrooge debe pensa a un cosa, e la otras debe descovre cual; el responde “si” o “no” a la demandas de los, seguente la caso. La ataca rapida de demandas a cual el es esposada estrae de el ce el pensa a un animal, un animal vivente, un animal alga nonamin, un animal savaje, un animal cual ronca e ruji a veses, e parla a veses, e abita en London, e pasea en la stradas, e no es mostrada en esibis, e no es gidada par algun, e no abita un zo, e es nunca matada en un mercato, e no es un cavalo, o un asino, o un bove fema, o un bove mas, o un tigre, o un can, o un porco, o un gato, o un urso.

It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge’s nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn’t made a show of, and wasn’t led by anybody, and didn’t live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear.

A cada demanda nova cual es donada a el, esta sobrino fa un esplode nova de rie, e es tan nonespresable titilada ce el es obligada de leva se de la sofa e piafa. Final, la sore ronda, cadente en un state simil, esclama:

At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:

“Me ia trova la solve! Me sabe lo cual lo es, Fred! Me sabe lo cual lo es!”

“I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!”

“Ce lo es?” – Fred cria.

“What is it?” cried Fred.

“Lo es tua Tio Scro-o-o-o-oge!”

“It’s your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!”

E esta es serta la solve. Amira es la senti universal, an si alga persones cexa ce la responde a “Esce lo es un urso?” ia debe es “si”, si on considera ce un responde negativa ia sufisi per diverje sua pensas a via de Senior Scrooge, e si on suposa ce los ia ave an cualce tende en acel dirije.

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to “Is it a bear?” ought to have been “Yes;” inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way.

“El ia dona multe diverti a nos, me es serta,” – Fred dise – “e nos ta es nongrasiosa si nos no ta tosta sua sania. Nos ave asi vitros de vino spisida ja en nosa manos a esta momento – e me dise: ‘Tio Scrooge!’”

“He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure,” said Fred, “and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I say, ‘Uncle Scrooge!’”

“Bon! Tio Scrooge!” – los cria.

“Well! Uncle Scrooge!” they cried.

“Un bon natal e un bon anio nova a la vea, an en sua carater!” – la sobrino de Scrooge dise – “El no ia vole aseta lo de me, ma ta ce el ave lo, an tal. A Tio Scrooge!”

“A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t take it from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge!”

Tio Scrooge ia deveni ja tan felis e lejera de cor ce el ta repaia la tosta de sua acompaniores nonconsensa, e ta grasia los en un parla nonoiable, si la fantasma ta dona a el la tempo per esta. Ma la sena intera pasa a via en la respira de la parola ultima parlada par sua sobrino; e el e la spirito es denova viajante.

Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of heart, that he would have pledged the unconscious company in return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath of the last word spoken by his nephew; and he and the Spirit were again upon their travels.

Los vide multe, e vade distante, e visita multe casas, ma sempre con un bon resulta. La spirito sta supra la letos de maladas, e los es felis; en paises stranjer, e los es prosima a sua propre pais; a lado de persones con vives difisil, e los es pasiente en sua espera grandida; a povria, e lo es rica. En casas carital, ospitales e prisones, en cada refuja de miseria, do un person orgulosa en sua autoria peti e tempora no ia fisa la porte per esclui la spirito, el lasa sua bondise e dona a Scrooge sua instruis pratical.

Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse, hospital, and jail, in misery’s every refuge, where vain man in his little brief authority had not made fast the door, and barred the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his precepts.

La note es longa, si lo es sola un note; ma Scrooge ave sua dutas sur esta, car plu ca un dia festosa de natal pare compresada en la periodo de tempo cual los pasa en junta. Lo es ance strana ce, an cuando Scrooge resta noncambiada en sua forma esterna, la fantasma deveni plu vea, clar plu vea. Scrooge ia oserva ja esta cambia, ma ia parla nunca sur lo, asta parti de un selebra de enfantes a la sera de Res, cuando, regardante la spirito ci sta a sua lado su la sielo, el persepi ce sua capeles es gris.

It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children’s Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey.

“Esce la vives de spiritos es tan corta?” – Scrooge demanda.

“Are spirits’ lives so short?” asked Scrooge.

“Mea vive sur esta globo es multe corta.” – la fantasma responde – “Lo fini a esta sera.”

“My life upon this globe, is very brief,” replied the Ghost. “It ends to-night.”

“Esta sera?” – Scrooge esclama.

“To-night!” cried Scrooge.

“A esta sera, a medianote. Escuta! La ora prosimi.”

“To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.”

La campanas es sonante la tre cuatris pos des-un a acel momento.

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

“Pardona me si me fa un demanda nondiscreta,” – Scrooge dise, atendosa regardante la roba de la spirito – “ma me vide alga cosa strana, cual no parteni a tu, e cual protende de su tua roba. Esce lo es un pede o un gara?”

“Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, “but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?”

“Lo es cisa un gara, si on judi par la poca carne cual lo porta.” – es la responde lamentosa de la spirito – “Regarda asi.”

“It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,” was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. “Look here.”

De la plias de sua roba, el produi du enfantes: misera, compatable, asustante, fea, triste. Los ajena a sua pedes, e teni se a la esterna de sua veste.

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

“O, umana! Regarda asi. Regarda, asi, asi a su!” – la fantasma esclama.

“Oh, Man! look here. Look, look, down here!” exclaimed the Ghost.

Los es un xico e un xica. Jala, magra, laserada, grimante, e lupin; ma ance prona en sua umilia. Do la jovenia refinada ta debe pleni sua jenas e toca los con sua colores la plu fresca, un mano vea e plietada, como acel de senese, ia pinsi e torse ja los, e ia tira los a trinxas. Do anjeles ta pote senta tronida, diablos asconde se e menasa par sua regardas coler. No cambia, no degrada, no perverti de umania, en cualce grado, tra tota la misterios de la mundo merveliosa, ia crea monstros con an un dui de la terori e asusta de estas.

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

dd

Scrooge salta a retro, xocada. Car los es presentada a el en esta modo, el atenta dise ce los es enfantes bela, ma la parolas sufoca se, preferente no aida un menti de un grandia tan enorme.

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

“Spirito! Los es tua enfantes?” – Scrooge pote dise no plu.

“Spirit! are they yours?” Scrooge could say no more.

“Los es la enfantes de la umanas.” – la spirito dise, cadente un regarda a los – “E los teni se a me, apelante contra sua padres. Esta xico es Nonsabe. Esta xica es Manca. Garda tu contra ambos, e contra cadun de sua grado, ma, supra tota, garda tu contra esta xico, car sur sua fronte me vide un cosa scriveda cual es Condena, si la scrive no pote es eliminada. Nega lo!” – la spirito cria, estendente sua mano en dirije a la site – “Malacusa los ci acusa ce tu ave lo! Aseta lo per tua intendes odiable, e deveni an plu mal. E espeta la fini!”

“They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!” cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. “Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And bide the end!”

“Esce los ave no refuja o proteje?” – Scrooge esclama.

“Have they no refuge or resource?” cried Scrooge.

“Esce on ave no prisones?” – la spirito dise, dirijente se a el per la ves final con sua propre parolas – “Esce on ave no casas de labora?”

“Are there no prisons?” said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. “Are there no workhouses?”

La campana sona la ora des-du.

The bell struck twelve.

Scrooge regarda sirca se per la fantasma, e no vide lo. An cuando la colpa ultima sesa vibra, el recorda la predise de Jacob Marley, la vea, e el leva sua oios per vide un fantasma diniosa, en roba e capeta, ci veni en sua dirije como un nebleta traversante la tera.

Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

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Lo ia es automatada jenerada de la paje corespondente en la Vici de Elefen a 28 marto 2022 (10:41 UTC).