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SPAMCAPITAL OMEGA: THE REMAKE OF THE REMAKE OF THE SPAM

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.
 
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.
 
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.
 
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!
 
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. 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!
 
A CHRISTMAS CAROL by Charles Dickens

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.
 
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.
 
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.
 
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.
 
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.
 
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