“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”  It held up its chain at arm’s length, as if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground again.  “At this time of the rolling year,” the spectre said, “I suffer most. 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
A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL
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Men to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!”  Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the spectre going on at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly.  “Hear me!” cried the Ghost. “My time is nearly gone.”  “I will,” said Scrooge. “But don’t be hard upon me! Don’t be flowery, Jacob! Pray!”