Scrooge, the Ghost, Cried the Ghost

The ghost repeated, seven years dead, and travelling all the time. Scrooge shivered and wiped the perspiration from his brow. Why did i walk through crowds of fellow beings with my eyes turned down and never raise them to that blessed star which led the wise men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me? It held up its chain at arm's length as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief; flung it heavily upon the ground. My time is nearly gone, i will said, scrooge, but don't be hard upon me. I am here to night to warn you that you have yet