…had had her doubts about the quality of the flour because it had something strange about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a bad pudding for the large family. It would have to do. Any chef would have blushed madly at such a dessert.
At last, the dinner was all done; the table was cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire lit. The presents found in the corner, perfect apples and oranges, were put upon the table and a shovel full of chestnuts on the fire. Then, all of the Cratchit family drew round the hearth, patriarch Bob Cratchit called a circle – meaning there would be a treat and at Bob Cratchit’s elbow stood the family display of love: a custard cut without a knife.
They had sweet stuff from the jug, and Bob took it out with a smile while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and crackled noisily he said, “A Merry Christmas to us all my dears. God bless us!” while all the family rejoiced. “God bless us everyone!” said Tiny Tim, the last of all. He sat on his father’s knee with his mother by his side. Bob held his little hand in his own as if he wished to keep a secret from the boy.
“Tell me of Tiny Tim, Spirit,” said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before. “He will live?”
“I see a vacant seat,” replied the Spirit “at a poor chimney corner and a crutch, without an owner, carefully preserved. The child will die.”
“No, no,” said Scrooge. “Oh no dear Spirit! Say he will be spared!”
“None other of my race,” returned the Spirit, “will find him here. What then? If he be likely to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”
Scrooge hung his head as his own words were quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with shame and grief.
“Man!” said the Ghost, “If man you be in heart and not demon for what wicked thoughts you have about what the surplus is and isn’t. It may be what man should live and what man shall die! You are more withered and less fit to live than millions of others. Oh God, to hear the heartless pass judgement on the helpless in the dust!”
Scrooge crumbled before the Spirit’s rebuke, and cast his eyes upon the ground. But, he raised them slightly, on hearing his own name.
“To Scrooge!” said Bob, “I’ll give you Mr. Scrooge, the founder of…”
– Charles Dickens (a very messy draft of a Christmas Carol)
Oh wow, I’m glad I didn’t pick this one to transcript. I took one look at the original and it looks like its written in another language. It looks like you did a pretty good job with it though, yours reads very nicely. One place I see something I would have done differently is on the third paragraph you have “They had sweet stuff” but when I read it I saw “They had a lot (of) stuff from the jug”.
When you said messy, you meant it.