British Narration - 'A Christmas Carol' excerpt - Multiple Characters
Description
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Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (England - Cockney, Estuary, East End) British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Then all the Cratchit family drew around the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one. And that Bob Cratchit elbow stood the family display of glass, two tumblers and a custard cup without a handle. He's 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 a merry Christmas to us all. My ideas, God bless us, which all the family re echoed. God bless us, everyone, said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 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. Spirit, said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before. Tell me if tiny Tim will live. 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, said Scrooge. Oh, no kind spirit say he will be spared if these shadows remain unaltered by the future. None other of my race returned the ghost. We'll find him here. What then, if he be, like to die, he had better do it and decrease the surplus population. Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief. Scrooge, bent before the ghosts rebuke and trembling, cast his eyes upon the ground, but he raised them speedily on hearing his own name. Mr Scrooge said, Bob, I'll give you Mr Scrooge, the founder of the feast. 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'd hope he'd have a good appetite for it. My dear, said Bob, the Children Christmas Day. 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, my dear, was Bob smiled answer Christmas Day. I'll drink his health for your sake and the days, said Mrs Cratchit. Not for is long life to him. A merry Christmas and a happy New Year. He'll be very merry and very happy. I have no doubt.