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A Christmas Carol
A Christmas Carol
A Christmas Carol
Ebook58 pages41 minutes

A Christmas Carol

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This beloved holiday story focuses on the miserly character of Ebenezer Scrooge. The spirit of his former partner, Jacob Marley, visits him, warning of grave consequences if he does not change his stingy and selfish ways. Marley's warning does not change Scrooge's habits - he just goes to bed. Later that night, Scrooge is visited by three more s

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 9, 2021
ISBN9781396321337
Author

Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens nació en Portsmouth en 1812, segundo de los ocho hijos de un funcionario de la Marina. A los doce años, encarcelado el padre por deudas, tuvo que ponerse a trabajar en una fábrica de betún. Su educación fue irregular: aprendió por su cuenta taquigrafía, trabajó en el bufete de un abogado y finalmente fue corresponsal parlamentario de The Morning Chronicle. Sus artículos, luego recogidos en Bosquejos de Boz (1836-1837), tuvieron un gran éxito y, con la aparición en esos mismos años de los Papeles póstumos del club Pickwick, Dickens se convirtió en un auténtico fenómeno editorial. Novelas como Oliver Twist (1837), Nicholas Nickleby (1838-1839) o (1841) alcanzaron una enorme popularidad, así como algunas crónicas de viajes, como Estampas de Italia (1846; ALBA CLÁSICA núm. LVII). Con Dombey e hijo (1846-1848) inicia su época de madurez novelística, de la que son buenos ejemplos David Copperfield (1849-1850), su primera novela en primera persona, y su favorita, en la que elaboró algunos episodios autobiográficos, Casa desolada (1852-1853), La pequeña Dorrit (1855-1857), Historia de dos ciudades (1859; ALBA PRIMEROS CLÁSICOS núm. 5) y Grandes esperanzas (1860-1861; ALBA CLÁSICA MAIOR núm. I). Dickens murió en Londres en 1870.

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    Book preview

    A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens

    A CHRISTMAS CAROL

    BY

    CHARLES DICKENS

    CONDENSED BY HIMSELF, FOR HIS READINGS

    Published by Left of Brain Books

    Copyright © 2021 Left of Brain Books

    ISBN 978-1-396-32133-7

    eBook Edition

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Left of Brain Books is a division of Left of Brain Onboarding Pty Ltd.

    Table of Contents

    A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

    STAVE ONE.  Marley’s ghost.

    STAVE TWO.  The First of the Three Spirits.

    STAVE THREE. The Second of the Three Spirits.

    STAVE FOUR. The Last of the Spirits.

    A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

    IN FOUR STAVES.

    STAVE ONE.

    Marley’s ghost.

    Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change for anything he chose to put his hand to.

    Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.

    Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner.

    Scrooge never painted out old Marley’s name, however. There it yet stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door, – Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley. He answered to both names. It was all the same to him.

    Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, was Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner! External heat and cold had little influence on him. No warmth could warm, no cold could chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain and snow and hail and sleet could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect, – they often came down handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

    Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me? No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o’clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blindmen’s dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!

    But what did Scrooge care! It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call nuts to Scrooge.

    Once upon a time – of all

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