`` I am a mortal , '' Scrooge remonstrated , `` and liable to fall . '' `` Bear but a touch of my hand there , '' said the Spirit , laying it upon his heart , `` and you shall be upheld in more than this ! '' As the words were spoken , they passed through the wall , and stood upon an open country road , with fields on either hand . The city had entirely vanished . Not a vestige of it was to be seen . The darkness and the mist had vanished with it , for it was a clear , cold , winter day , with the snow upon the ground . `` Good Heaven ! '' said Scrooge , clasping his hands together as he looked about him . `` I was bred in this place . I was a boy here ! '' The Spirit gazed upon him mildly . Its gentle touch , though it had been light and instantaneous , appeared still present to the old man 's sense of feeling . He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air , each one connected with a thousand thoughts , and hopes , and joys , and cares long , long forgotten ! `` Your lip is trembling , '' said the Ghost . `` And what is that upon your cheek ? '' Scrooge muttered , with an unusual catching in his voice , that it was a pimple ; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would . `` You recollect the way ? '' inquired the Spirit . `` Remember it ! '' cried Scrooge with fervour ; `` I could walk it blindfold . ''
`` Strange XXXXX have forgotten it for so many years ! ''
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