Dickens' Stories About Children Every Child Can Read Read online

  VII.

  LITTLE DAVID COPPERFIELD.

  I, little David Copperfield, lived with my mother in a pretty house inthe village of Blunderstone in Suffolk. I had never known my father, whodied before I could remember anything, and I had neither brothers norsisters. I was fondly loved by my pretty young mother, and our kind,good servant, Peggotty, and was a very happy little fellow. We had veryfew friends, and the only relation my mother talked about was an aunt ofmy father's, a tall and rather terrible old lady, from all accounts, whohad once been to see us when I was quite a tiny baby, and had been soangry to find I was not a little girl that she had left the house quiteoffended, and had never been heard of since. One visitor, a tall darkgentleman, I did not like at all, and was rather inclined to be jealousthat my mother should be so friendly with the stranger.

  Peggotty and I were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone. I hadbeen reading to Peggotty about crocodiles. I was tired of reading, anddead sleepy; but having leave, as a high treat, to sit up until mymother came home from spending the evening at a neighbor's, I wouldrather have died upon my post (of course) than have gone to bed. I hadreached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty seemed to swell and growimmensely large. I propped my eyelids open with my two forefingers, andlooked perseveringly at her as she sat at work; at the little house witha thatched roof, where she kept her yard-measure; at her work-box with asliding-lid, with a view of St. Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome)painted on the top; at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whomI thought lovely. I felt so sleepy that I knew if I lost sight ofanything, for a moment, I was gone.

  "Peggotty," says I, suddenly, "were you ever married?"

  "Lord, Master Davy!" replied Peggotty. "What's put marriage in yourhead?"

  She answered with such a start that it quite awoke me. And then shestopped in her work and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to itsthread's length.

  "But _were_ you ever married, Peggotty?" says I. "You are a veryhandsome woman, ain't you?"

  "Me handsome, Davy!" said Peggotty. "Lawk, no, my dear! But what putmarriage in your head?"

  "I don't know! You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, mayyou, Peggotty?"

  "Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision.

  "But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marryanother person, mayn't you, Peggotty?"

  "You MAY," says Peggotty, "if you choose, my dear. That's a matter ofopinion."

  "But what is your opinion, Peggotty?" said I.

  I asked her and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiouslyat me.

  "My opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after waiting alittle, and going on with her work, "that I never was married myself,Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be. That's all I know about thesubject."

  "You ain't cross, I suppose, Peggotty, are you?" said I, after sittingquiet for a minute.

  I really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but I was quitemistaken; for she laid aside her work (which was a stocking of her own)and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and gave it agood squeeze. I know it was a good squeeze, because, being very plump,whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed, some of thebuttons on the back of her flew off. And I recollect two bursting to theopposite side of the parlor while she was hugging me.

  One day Peggotty asked me if I would like to go with her on a visit toher brother at Yarmouth.

  "Is your brother an agreeable man, Peggotty?" I inquired.

  "Oh, what an agreeable man he is!" cried Peggotty. "Then there's thesea, and the boats and ships, and the fishermen, and the beach. And 'Amto play with."

  Ham was her nephew. I was quite anxious to go when I heard of all thesedelights; but my mother, what would she do all alone? Peggotty told memy mother was going to pay a visit to some friends, and would be sure tolet me go. So all was arranged, and we were to start the next day in thecarrier's cart. I was so eager that I wanted to put my hat and coat onthe night before! But when the time came to say good-by to my dearmamma, I cried a little, for I had never left her before. It was rathera slow way of traveling, and I was very tired and sleepy when I arrivedat Yarmouth, and found Ham waiting to meet me. He was a great strongfellow, six feet high, and took me on his back and the box under hisarm to carry both to the house. I was delighted to find that this housewas made of a real big black boat, with a door and windows cut in theside, and an iron funnel sticking out of the roof for a chimney. Inside,it was very cozy and clean, and I had a tiny bedroom in the stern. I wasvery much pleased to find a dear little girl, about my own age, to playwith, and after tea I said:

  "Mr. Peggotty."

  "Sir," says he.

  "Did you give your son the name of Ham because you lived in a sort ofark?"

  Mr. Peggotty seemed to think it a deep idea, but answered:

  "No, sir. I never giv' him no name."

  "Who gave him that name, then?" said I, putting question number two ofthe catechism to Mr. Peggotty.

  "Why, sir, his father giv' it him," said Mr. Peggotty.

  "I thought you were his father!"

  "My brother Joe was _his_ father," said Mr. Peggotty.

  "Dead, Mr. Peggotty?" I hinted, after a respectful pause.

  "Drowndead," said Mr. Peggotty.

  I was very much surprised that Mr. Peggotty was not Ham's father, andbegan to wonder whether I was mistaken about his relationship to anybodyelse there. I was so curious to know that I made up my mind to have itout with Mr. Peggotty.

  "Little Em'ly," I said, glancing at her. "She is your daughter, isn'tshe, Mr. Peggotty?"

  "No, sir. My brother-in-law, Tom, was _her_ father."

  I couldn't help it. "----Dead, Mr. Peggotty?" I hinted, after anotherrespectful silence.

  "Drowndead," said Mr. Peggotty.

  I felt the difficulty of resuming the subject, but had not got to thebottom of it yet, and must get to the bottom somehow. So I said:

  "Haven't you _any_ children, Mr. Peggotty?"

  "No, master," he answered, with a short laugh. "I'm a bacheldore."

  "A bachelor!" I said, astonished. "Why, who's that, Mr. Peggotty?"Pointing to the person in the apron who was knitting.

  "That's Missis Gummidge," said Mr. Peggotty.

  "Gummidge, Mr. Peggotty?"

  But at this point Peggotty--I mean my own Peggotty--made such impressivemotions to me not to ask any more questions, that I could only sit andlook at all the company, until it was time to go to bed.

  Mrs. Gummidge lived with them too, and did the cooking and cleaning, forshe was a poor widow and had no home of her own. I thought Mr. Peggottywas very good to take all these people to live with him, and I was quiteright, for Mr. Peggotty was only a poor man himself and had to work hardto get a living.

  Almost as soon as morning shone upon the oyster-shell frame of my mirrorI was out of bed, and out with tittle Em'ly, picking up stones upon thebeach.

  "You're quite a sailor I suppose?" I said to Em'ly. I don't know that Isupposed anything of the kind, but I felt it proper to say something;and a shining sail close to us made such a pretty little image ofitself, at the moment, in her bright eye, that it came into my head tosay this.

  "No," replied Em'ly, shaking her head, "I'm afraid of the sea."

  "Afraid!" I said, with a becoming air of boldness, and looking very bigat the mighty ocean. "I ain't."

  "Ah! but it's cruel," said Em'ly. "I have seen it very cruel to some ofour men. I have seen it tear a boat as big as our house all to pieces."

  "I hope it wasn't the boat that--"

  "That father was drowned in?" said Em'ly. "No. Not that one, I never seethat boat."

  "Nor him?" I asked her.

  Little Em'ly shook her head. "Not to remember!"

  Here was something remarkable. I immediately went into an explanationhow I had never seen my own father; and how my mother and I had alwayslived by ourselves in the happiest state imagina
ble, and lived so then,and always meant to live so; and how my father's grave was in thechurchyard near our house, and shaded by a tree, beneath the boughs ofwhich I had walked and heard the birds sing many a pleasant morning. Butthere were some differences between Em'ly's orphanhood and mine, itappeared. She had lost her mother before her father, and where herfather's grave was no one knew, except that it was somewhere in thedepths of the sea.

  "Besides," said Em'ly, as she looked about for shells and pebbles, "yourfather was a gentleman and your mother is a lady; and my father was afisherman and my mother was a fisherman's daughter, and my Uncle Dan isa fisherman."

  "Dan is Mr. Peggotty, is he?" said I.

  David Copperfield and Little Em'ly.

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  "Uncle--yonder," answered Em'ly, nodding at the boat-house.

  "Yes. I mean him. He must be very good, I should think."

  "Good?" said Em'ly. "If I was ever to be a lady, I'd give him a sky-bluecoat with diamond buttons, nankeen trousers, a red velvet waistcoat, acocked hat, a large gold watch, a silver pipe, and a box of money."

  I said I had no doubt that Mr. Peggotty well deserved these treasures.

  Little Em'ly had stopped and looked up at the sky while she named thesearticles, as if they were a glorious vision. We went on again picking upshells and pebbles.

  "You would like to be a lady?" I said.

  Em'ly looked at me, and laughed and nodded "yes."

  "I should like it very much. We would all be gentlefolks together, then.Me, and uncle, and Ham, and Mrs. Gummidge. We wouldn't mind then, whenthere come stormy weather. Not for our own sakes, I mean. We would forthe poor fishermen's, to be sure, and we'd help 'em with money when theycome to any hurt."

  I was quite sorry to leave these kind people and my dear littlecompanion, but I was glad to think I should get back to my own dearmamma. When I reached home, however, I found a great change. My motherwas married to the dark man I did not like, whose name was Mr.Murdstone, and he was a stern, hard man, who had no love for me, and didnot allow my mother to pet and indulge me as she had done before. Mr.Murdstone's sister came to live with us, and as she was even moredifficult to please than her brother, and disliked boys, my life was nolonger a happy one. I tried to be good and obedient, for I knew it mademy mother very unhappy to see me punished and found fault with. I hadalways had lessons with my mother, and as she was patient and gentle, Ihad enjoyed learning to read, but now I had a great many very hardlessons to do, and was so frightened and shy when Mr. and Miss Murdstonewere in the room, that I did not get on at all well, and was continuallyin disgrace.

  Let me remember how it used to be, and bring one morning back again.

  I come into the second-best parlor after breakfast, with my books, andan exercise-book and a slate. My mother is ready for me at herwriting-desk, but not half so ready as Mr. Murdstone in his easy-chairby the window (though he pretends to be reading a book), or as MissMurdstone, sitting near my mother stringing steel beads. The very sightof these two has such an influence over me that I begin to feel thewords I have been at infinite pains to get into my head all slidingaway, and going I don't know where. I wonder where they _do_ go,by-the-by?

  I hand the first book to my mother. Perhaps it is a grammar, perhaps ahistory, or geography. I take a last drowning look at the page as I giveit into her hand, and start off aloud at a racing pace while I have gotit fresh. I trip over a word. Mr. Murdstone looks up. I trip overanother word. Miss Murdstone looks up. I redden, tumble over half adozen words and stop. I think my mother would show me the book if shedared, but she does not dare, and she says softly:

  "Oh, Davy, Davy!"

  "Now, Clara," says Mr. Murdstone, "be firm with the boy. Don't say, 'Oh,Davy, Davy!' That's childish. He knows his lesson, or he does not knowit."

  "He does _not_ know it," Miss Murdstone interposes awfully.

  "I am really afraid he does not," says my mother.

  "Then you see, Clara," returns Miss Murdstone, "you should just givehim the book back, and make him know it."

  "Yes, certainly," says my mother; "that is what I intend to do, my dearJane. Now, Davy, try once more, and don't be stupid."

  I obey the first clause of my mother's words by trying once more, but amnot so successful with the second, for I am very stupid. I tumble downbefore I get to the old place, at a point where I was all right before,and stop to think. But I can't think about the lesson. I think of thenumber of yards of net in Miss Murdstone's cap, or of the price of Mr.Murdstone's dressing-gown, or any such ridiculous matter that I have nobusiness with, and don't want to have anything at all to do with. Mr.Murdstone makes a movement of impatience which I have been expecting fora long time. Miss Murdstone does the same. My mother glancessubmissively at them, shuts the book, and lays it by, to be worked outwhen my other tasks are done.

  There is a pile of these tasks very soon, and it swells like a rollingsnowball. The bigger it gets, the more stupid _I_ get. The case is sohopeless, and I feel that I am wallowing in such a bog of nonsense, thatI give up all idea of getting out, and abandon myself to my fate. Thedespairing way in which my mother and I look at each other, as Iblunder on, is truly melancholy. But the greatest effect in thesemiserable lessons is when my mother (thinking nobody is observing her)tries to give me the cue by the motion of her lips. At that instant,Miss Murdstone, who has been lying in wait for nothing else all alongsays in a deep warning voice:

  "Clara!"

  My mother starts, colors, and smiles faintly. Mr. Murdstone comes out ofhis chair, takes the book, throws it at me, or boxes my ears with it,and turns me out of the room by the shoulders.

  My only pleasure was to go up into a little room at the top of the housewhere I had found a number of books that had belonged to my own father,and I would sit and read Robinson Crusoe, and many tales of travels andadventures, and I imagined myself to be sometimes one and sometimesanother hero, and went about for days with the centre-piece out of anold set of boot-trees, pretending to be a captain in the British RoyalNavy.

  One morning when I went into the parlor with my books, I found my motherlooking anxious, Miss Murdstone looking firm, and Mr. Murdstone bindingsomething round the bottom of a cane--a lithe and limber cane, which heleft off binding when I came in, and poised and switched in the air.

  "I tell you, Clara," said Mr. Murdstone, "I have often been floggedmyself."

  "To be sure; of course," said Miss Murdstone.

  "Certainly, my dear Jane," faltered my mother, meekly. "But--but do youthink it did Edward good?"

  "Do you think it did Edward harm, Clara?" asked Mr. Murdstone, gravely.

  "That's the point!" said his sister.

  To this my mother returned, "Certainly, my dear Jane," and said no more.

  I felt afraid that all this had something to do with myself, and soughtMr. Murdstone's eye as it lighted on mine.

  "Now, David," he said--and I saw that cast again, as he said it--"youmust be far more careful to-day than usual." He gave the cane anotherpoise and another switch; and having finished his preparation of it,laid it down beside him, with an expressive look, and took up his book.

  This was a good freshener to my memory, as a beginning. I felt the wordsof my lessons slipping off, not one by one, or line by line, but by theentire page. I tried to lay hold of them; but they seemed, if I may soexpress it, to have put skates on, and to skim away from me with asmoothness there was no checking.

  We began badly, and went on worse. I had come in with an idea of doingbetter than usual, thinking that I was very well prepared; but it turnedout to be quite a mistake. Book after book was added to the heap offailures, Miss Murdstone being firmly watchful of us all the time. Andwhen we came at last to a question about five thousand cheeses (canes hemade it that day, I remember), my mother burst out crying.

  "Clara!" said Miss Murdstone, in her warning voice.

  "I am not quite well, my dear Jane, I think," said my mother.

&nb
sp; I saw him wink, solemnly, at his sister, as he rose and said, taking upthe cane:

  "Why, Jane, we can hardly expect Clara to bear, with perfect firmness,the worry and torment that David has caused her to-day. Clara is greatlystrengthened and improved; but we can hardly expect so much from her.David, you and I will go up-stairs, boy."

  As he took me out at the door, my mother ran towards us. Miss Murdstonesaid, "Clara! are you a perfect fool?" and interfered. I saw my motherstop her ears then, and I heard her crying.

  He walked me up to my room slowly and gravely--I am certain he had adelight in that formal show of doing justice--and when we got there,suddenly twisted my head under his arm.

  "Mr. Murdstone! Sir!" I cried to him. "Don't! Pray don't beat me! I havetried to learn, sir, but I can't learn while you and Miss Murdstone areby. I can't indeed!"

  "Can't you, indeed, David?" he said. "We'll try that."

  He had my head as in a vise, but I twined round him somehow, and stoppedhim for a moment, entreating him not to beat me. It was only for amoment that I stopped him, for he cut me heavily an instant afterwards,and in the same instant I caught the hand with which he held me in mymouth, between my teeth, and bit it through. It sets my teeth on edge tothink of it.

  He beat me then, as if he would have beaten me to death. Above all thenoise we made, I heard them running up the stairs, and crying out--Iheard my mother crying out--and Peggotty. Then he was gone; and the doorwas locked outside; and I was lying, fevered, and hot, and torn, andraging in my puny way, upon the floor.

  How well I recollect, when I became quiet, what an unnatural stillnessseemed to reign through the whole house! How well I remember, when mysmart and passion began to cool, how wicked I began to feel!

  I sat listening for a long while, but there was not a sound. I crawledup from the floor, and saw my face in the glass, so swollen, red, andugly that it almost frightened me. My stripes were sore and stiff, andmade me cry afresh, when I moved; but they were nothing to the guilt Ifelt. It lay heavier on my breast than if I had been a most terriblecriminal, I dare say, and the longer I thought of it the greater theoffense seemed.

  It had begun to grow dark, and I had shut the window (I had been lying,for the most part, with my head upon the sill, by turns crying, dozing,and looking listlessly out), when the key was turned, and Miss Murdstonecame in with some bread and meat and milk. These she put down upon thetable without a word, glaring at me the while and then retired, lockingthe door after her.

  I never shall forget the waking next morning; the being cheerful andfresh for the first moment, and then the being weighed down by the staleand dismal oppression of remembrance. Miss Murdstone came again beforeI was out of bed; told me, in so many words, that I was free to walk inthe garden for half an hour and no longer; retired, leaving the dooropen, that I might avail myself of that permission.

  I did so, and did so every morning of my imprisonment, which lasted fivedays. If I could have seen my mother alone, I should have gone down onmy knees to her and besought her forgiveness; but I saw no one, MissMurdstone excepted, during the whole time.

  The length of those five days I can convey no idea of to anyone. Theyoccupy the place of years in my remembrance.

  On the last night of my restraint, I was awakened by hearing my own namespoken in a whisper. I started up in bed, and, putting out my arms inthe dark, said:

  "Is that you, Peggotty?"

  There was no immediate answer, but presently I heard my name again, in atone so very mysterious and awful, that I think I should have gone intoa fit, if it had not occurred to me that it must have come through thekeyhole.

  I groped my way to the door, and, putting my own lips to the keyhole,whispered:

  "Is that you, Peggotty, dear?"

  "Yes, my own precious Davy," she replied. "Be as soft as a mouse, or thecat'll hear us."

  I understood this to mean Miss Murdstone, and knew that we must becareful and quiet; her room being close by.

  "How's mamma, dear Peggotty? Is she very angry with me?"

  I could hear Peggotty crying softly on her side of the keyhole, as I wasdoing on mine, before she answered. "No. Not very."

  "What is going to be done with me, Peggotty, dear? Do you know?"

  "School. Near London," was Peggotty's answer. I was obliged to get herto repeat it, for she spoke it the first time quite down my throat inconsequence of my having forgotten to take my mouth away from thekeyhole and put my ear there; and, though her words tickled me a gooddeal, I didn't hear them.

  "When, Peggotty?"

  "To-morrow."

  "Is that the reason why Miss Murdstone took the clothes out of mydrawers?" which she had done, though I have forgotten to mention it.

  "Yes," said Peggotty. "Box."

  "Shan't I see mamma?"

  "Yes," said Peggotty. "Morning."

  Then Peggotty fitted her mouth close to the keyhole, and spoke thesewords through it with as much feeling and earnestness as a keyhole hasever been the means of communicating, I will venture to say, shooting ineach broken little sentence in a convulsive little burst of its own.

  "Davy, dear. If I ain't been azackly as intimate with you. Lately, as Iused to be. It ain't because I don't love you. Just as well and more, mypretty poppet. It's because I thought it better for you. And for someoneelse besides. Davy, my darling, are you listening? Can you hear?"

  "Ye--ye--ye--yes, Peggotty!" I sobbed.

  "My own!" said Peggotty, with infinite compassion. "What I want to say,is. That you must never forget me. For I'll never forget you. And I'lltake as much care of your mamma, Davy. As I ever took of you. And Iwon't leave her. The day may come when she'll be glad to lay her poorhead. On her stupid, cross old Peggotty's arm again. And I'll write toyou, my dear. Though I ain't no scholar. And I'll--I'll--" Peggotty fellto kissing the keyhole, as she couldn't kiss me.

  "Thank you, dear Peggotty!" said I. "Oh, thank you! Thank you! Will youpromise me one thing, Peggotty? Will you write and tell Mr. Peggottyand little Em'ly and Mrs. Gummidge and Ham that I am not so bad as theymight suppose, and that I sent 'em all my love--especially to littleEm'ly? Will you, if you please, Peggotty?"

  The kind soul promised, and we both of us kissed the keyhole with thegreatest affection--I patted it with my hand, I recollect, as if it hadbeen her honest face--and parted.

  In the morning Miss Murdstone appeared as usual, and told me I was goingto school; which was not altogether such news to me as she supposed. Shealso informed me that when I was dressed, I was to come down-stairs intothe parlor and have my breakfast. There I found my mother, very pale andwith red eyes; into whose arms I ran, and begged her pardon from mysuffering soul.

  "Oh, Davy!" she said. "That you could hurt anyone I love! Try to bebetter, pray to be better! I forgive you; but I am so grieved, Davy,that you should have such bad passions in your heart."

  Miss Murdstone was good enough to take me out to the cart, and to say onthe way that she hoped I would repent, before I came to a bad end; andthen I got into the cart, and the lazy horse walked off with it.

  We might have gone about half a mile, and my pocket handkerchief wasquite wet through, when the carrier stopped short.

  Looking out to ascertain for what, I saw, to my amazement, Peggottyburst from a hedge and climb into the cart. She took me in both her armsand squeezed me until the pressure on my nose was extremely painful,though I never thought of that till afterwards, when I found it verytender. Not a single word did Peggotty speak, releasing one of her arms,she put it down in her pocket to the elbow, and brought out somepaper-bags of cakes, which she crammed into my pockets, and a pursewhich she put into my hand, but not one word did she say. After anotherand a final squeeze with both arms, she got down from the cart and ranaway; and my belief is, and has always been, without a solitary buttonon her gown. I picked up one, of several that was rolling about, andtreasured it as a keepsake for a long time.

  The carrier looked at me, as if to inquire if she were coming back. Isho
ok my head, and said I thought not. "Then come up!" said the carrierto the lazy horse, who came up accordingly.

  Having by this time cried as much as I possibly could, I began to thinkit was of no use crying any more. The carrier seeing me in thisresolution, proposed that my pocket handkerchief should be spread uponthe horse's back to dry. I thanked him and agreed; and particularlysmall it looked under those circumstances.

  I had now time to examine the purse. It was a stiff leather purse, witha snap, and had three bright shillings in it, which Peggotty hadevidently polished up with whitening, for my greater delight. But itsprecious contents were two half-crowns folded together in a bit ofpaper, on which was written, in my mother's hand, "For Davy. With mylove." I was so overcome by this, that I asked the carrier to be so goodas reach me my pocket handkerchief again, but he said he thought I hadbetter do without it; and I thought I really had; so I wiped my eyes onmy sleeve and stopped myself.

  For good, too; though, in consequence of my previous feelings, I wasstill occasionally seized with a stormy sob. After we had jogged on forsome little time, I asked the carrier if he was going all the way.

  "All the way where?" inquired the carrier.

  "There," I said.

  "Where's there?" inquired the carrier.

  "Near London," I said.

  "Why, that horse," said the carrier, jerking the rein to point him out,"would be deader than pork afore he got over half the ground."

  "Are you only going to Yarmouth then?" I asked.

  "That's about it," said the carrier. "And there I shall take you to thestage-cutch, and the stage-cutch that'll take you to--wherever it is."

  I shared my cakes with the carrier, who asked if Peggotty made them, andtold him yes, she did all our cooking. The carrier looked thoughtful,and then asked if I would send a message to Peggotty from him. I agreed,and the message was "Barkis is willing." While I was waiting for thecoach at Yarmouth, I wrote to Peggotty:

  "MY DEAR PEGGOTTY:--I have come here safe. Barkis is willing. My love tomamma. Yours affectionately.

  "_P.S._--He says he particularly wanted you to know _Barkis iswilling_."

  At Yarmouth I found dinner was ordered for me, and felt very shy athaving a table all to myself, and very much alarmed when the waiter toldme he had seen a gentleman fall down dead after drinking some of theirbeer. I said I would have some water, and was quite grateful to thewaiter for drinking the ale that had been ordered for me, for fear thepeople of the hotel should be offended. He also helped me to eat mydinner, and accepted one of my bright shillings.

  After a long, tiring journey by the coach, for there were no trains inthose days, I arrived in London and was taken to the school atBlackheath, by one of the masters, Mr. Mell.

  I gazed upon the schoolroom into which he took me, as the most forlornand desolate place I had ever seen. I see it now. A long room, withthree long rows of desks, and six of long seats, bristling all roundwith pegs for hats and slates. Scraps of old copy-books and exerciseslitter the dirty floor.

  Mr. Mell having left me for a few moments, I went softly to the upperend of the room, observing all this as I crept along. Suddenly I cameupon a pasteboard placard, beautifully written which was lying on thedesk, and bore these words--"_Take care of him._ _He bites._"

  I got upon the desk immediately, afraid of at least a great dogunderneath. But, though I looked all round with anxious eyes, I couldsee nothing of him. I was still engaged in peering about when Mr. Mellcame back, and asked me what I did up there.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," says I, "if you please, I'm looking for thedog."

  "Dog?" says he. "What dog?"

  "Isn't it a dog, sir?"

  "Isn't what a dog?"

  "That's to be taken care of, sir; that bites."

  "No, Copperfield," says he, gravely, "that's not a dog. That's a boy. Myinstructions are, Copperfield, to put this placard on your back. I amsorry to make such a beginning with you, but I must do it."

  With that, he took me down, and tied the placard, which was neatlyconstructed for the purpose, on my shoulders like a knapsack; andwherever I went, afterwards, I had the consolation of carrying it.

  What I suffered from that placard, nobody can imagine. Whether it waspossible for people to see me or not, I always fancied that somebody wasreading it. It was no relief to turn round and find nobody; for wherevermy back was, there I imagined somebody always to be.

  There was an old door in this playground, on which the boys had a customof carving their names. It was completely covered with suchinscriptions. In my dread of the end of the vacation and their comingback, I could not read one boy's name, without inquiring in what toneand with what emphasis _he_ would read, "Take care of him. He bites."There was one boy--a certain J. Steerforth--who cut his name very deepand very often, who, I conceived, would read it in a rather strongvoice, and afterwards pull my hair. There was another boy, one TommyTraddles, who I dreaded would make game of it, and pretend to bedreadfully frightened of me. There was a third, George Demple, who Ifancied would sing it. I have looked, a little shrinking creature, atthat door, until the owners of all the names--there were five-and-fortyof them in the school then, Mr. Mell said--seemed to cry out, each inhis own way, "Take care of him. He bites!"

  Tommy Traddles was the first boy who returned. He introduced himself byinforming me that I should find his name on the right-hand corner of thegate, over the top bolt; upon that I said, "Traddles?" to which hereplied, "The same," and then he asked me for a full account of myselfand family.

  It was fortunate for me that Traddles came back first. He enjoyed myplacard so much that he saved me from the embarrassment of eithertelling about it or trying to hide it by presenting me to every otherboy who came back, great or small, immediately on his arrival, in thisform of introduction, "Look here! Here's a game!" Happily, too, thegreater part of the boys came back low-spirited, and were not soboisterous at my expense as I had expected. Some of them certainly couldnot resist the temptation of pretending that I was a dog, and pattingand smoothing me lest I should bite, and saying, "Lie down, sir!" andcalling me Towzer. This was naturally confusing, among so manystrangers, and cost some tears, but on the whole it was much better thanI had anticipated.

  I was not considered as being formally received into the school,however, until J. Steerforth arrived. Before this boy, who was reputedto be a great scholar, and was very good-looking, and at leasthalf-a-dozen years older than I, I was carried as before a judge. Heinquired, under a shed in the playground, into the particulars of mypunishment, and was pleased to express his opinion that it was a "jollyshame;" for which I became bound to him ever afterwards.

  "What money have you got, Copperfield?" he said, walking aside with mewhen he had disposed of my affair in these terms.

  I told him seven shillings.

  "You had better give it to me to take care of," he said. "At least, youcan, if you like. You needn't if you don't like."

  I hastened to comply with his friendly suggestion, and, openingPeggotty's purse, turned it upside down into his hand.

  "Do you want to spend anything now?" he asked me.

  "No, thank you," I replied.

  "You can, if you like, you know," said Steerforth. "Say the word."

  "No, thank you, sir," I repeated.

  "Perhaps you'd like to spend a couple of shillings or so in a bottle ofcurrant wine by-and-by, up in the bedroom?" said Steerforth. "You belongto my bedroom, I find."

  It certainly had not occurred to me before, but I said, Yes, I shouldlike that.

  "Very good," said Steerforth. "You'll be glad to spend another shillingor so in almond cakes, I dare say?"

  I said, "Yes, I should like that, too."

  "And another shilling or so in biscuits, and another in fruit, eh?" saidSteerforth. "I say, young Copperfield, you're going it!"

  I smiled because he smiled, but I was a little troubled in my mind, too.

  "Well!" said Steerforth. "We must make it stretch as far as we can;that's a
ll. I'll do the best in my power for you. I can go out when Ilike, and I'll smuggle the prog in." With these words he put the moneyin his pocket, and kindly told me not to make myself uneasy; he wouldtake care it should be all right.

  He was as good as his word, if that were all right which I had a secretmisgiving was nearly all wrong--for I feared it was a waste of mymother's two half-crowns--though I had preserved the piece of paper theywere wrapped in; which was a precious saving. When we went up-stairs tobed, he produced the whole seven shillings worth, and laid it out on mybed in the moonlight, saying:

  "There you are, young Copperfield, and a royal spread you've got!"

  I couldn't think of doing the honors of the feast at my time of life,while he was by; my hand shook at the very thought of it. I begged himto do me the favor of taking charge of the treat; and my request beingseconded by the other boys who were in that room, he agreed to it, andsat upon my pillow, handing round the food--with perfect fairness, Imust say--and giving out the currant wine in a little glass without afoot, which was his own property. As to me, I sat on his left hand, andthe rest were grouped about us, on the nearest beds and on the floor.

  How well I recollect our sitting there, talking in whispers; or theirtalking, and my respectfully listening, I ought rather to say; themoonlight falling a little way into the room, through the window,painting a pale window on the floor, and the greater part of us inshadow, except when Steerforth scratched a match, when he wanted to lookfor anything on the board, and shed a blue glare over us that was gonedirectly! A certain mysterious feeling, consequent on the darkness, thesecrecy of the revel, and the whisper in which everything was said,steals over me again, and I listen to all they tell me, with a vaguefeeling of solemnity and awe, which makes me glad they are all so near,and frightens me (though I feign to laugh) when Traddles pretends to seea ghost in the corner.

  I heard all kinds of things about the school and all belonging to it. Iheard that Mr. Creakle was the sternest and most severe of masters; thathe laid about him, right and left, every day of his life, charging inamong the boys like a trooper, and slashing away, unmercifully.

  I heard that the man with the wooden leg, whose name was Tungay, was anobstinate fellow who had formerly been in the hop business, but hadcome into the line with Mr. Creakle, in consequence, as was supposedamong the boys, of his having broken his leg in Mr. Creakle's service,and having done a deal of dishonest work for him, and knowing hissecrets.

  But the greatest wonder that I heard of Mr. Creakle was, there being oneboy in the school on whom he never ventured to lay a hand, and that thatboy being J. Steerforth. Steerforth himself confirmed this when it wasstated, and said that he should like to begin to see him do it. On beingasked by a mild boy (not me) how he would proceed if he did begin to seehim do it, he scratched a match on purpose to shed a glare over hisreply, and said he would commence with knocking him down with a blow onthe forehead from the seven-and-six-penny ink-bottle that was always onthe mantelpiece. We sat in the dark for some time, breathless.

  I heard that Miss Creakle was regarded by the school in general as beingin love with Steerforth; and I am sure, as I sat in the dark, thinkingof his nice voice, and his fine face, and his easy manner, and hiscurling hair, I thought it very likely. I heard that Mr. Mell was not abad sort of fellow, but hadn't a sixpence to bless himself with; andthat there was no doubt that old Mrs. Mell, his mother, was as poor asJob.

  One day, Traddles (the most unfortunate boy in the world) breaks awindow accidentally with a ball. I shudder at this moment with thetremendous sensation of seeing it done, and feeling that the ball hasbounded on to Mr. Creakle's sacred head.

  Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs likeGerman sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and mostmiserable of all the boys. He was always being caned--I think he wascaned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday, when he wasonly rulered on both hands--and was always going to write to his uncleabout it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a littlewhile, he would cheer up somehow, begin to laugh again, and drawskeletons all over his slate before his eyes were dry. I used at firstto wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons. But Ibelieve he only did it because they were easy, and didn't want anyfeatures.

  He was very honorable, Traddles was; and held it as a solemn duty in theboys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on several occasions;and particularly once, when Steerforth laughed in church, and thebeadle thought it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now, goingaway under guard, despised by the congregation. He never said who wasthe real offender, though he smarted for it next day, and was imprisonedso many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyard full ofskeletons swarming all over his Latin Dictionary. But he had his reward.Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddles, and we allfelt that to be the highest praise. For my part, I could have gonethrough a great deal (though I was much less brave than Traddles, andnothing like so old) to have won such a reward, as praise from J.Steerforth.

  To see Steerforth walk to church before us, arm-in-arm with MissCreakle, was one of the great sights of my life. I didn't think MissCreakle equal to little Em'ly in point of beauty, and I didn't love her(I didn't dare); but I thought her a young lady of extraordinaryattractions, and in point of gentility not to be surpassed. WhenSteerforth, in white trousers, carried her parasol for her, I felt proudto know him; and believed that she could not choose but adore him withall her heart. Mr. Sharp and Mr. Mell were both great personages in myeyes; but Steerforth was to them what the sun was to two stars. Anaccidental matter strengthened the friendship between Steerforth and me,in a manner that inspired me with great pride and satisfaction, thoughit sometimes led to inconvenience. It happened on one occasion, when hewas doing me the honor of talking to me in the playground that Iremarked that something or somebody--I forget what now--was likesomething or somebody in the story of Peregrine Pickle. He said nothingat the time; but when I was going to bed at night, asked me if I had gotthat book.

  I told him no, and explained how it was that I had read it, and allthose other books of which I had made mention.

  "And do you recollect them?" Steerforth said.

  "Oh yes," I replied; I had a good memory, and I believed I recollectedthem very well.

  "Then I tell you what, young Copperfield," said Steerforth, "you shalltell 'em to me. I can't get to sleep very early at night, and Igenerally wake rather early in the morning. We'll go over 'em one afteranother. We'll make some regular Arabian Nights of it."

  I felt extremely flattered by this arrangement, and we commencedcarrying out the plan that very evening.

  Steerforth showed his thought for me in one particular instance, in anunflinching manner that was a little troublesome, to poor Traddles andthe rest. Peggotty's promised letter--what a comfortable letter itwas!--arrived before "the half" of the school-term was many weeks old;and with it a cake in a perfect nest of oranges, and two bottles ofcowslip wine. This treasure, as in duty bound, I laid at the feet ofSteerforth, and begged him to divide it among the boys.

  "Now, I'll tell you what, young Copperfield," said he, "the wine shallbe kept to wet your whistle when you are story-telling."

  I blushed at the idea, and begged him, in my modesty, not to think ofit. But he said he had observed I was sometimes hoarse--a little roopywas his exact expression--and it should be, every drop, set apart to thepurpose he had mentioned. Accordingly, it was locked up in his box, anddrawn off by himself in a phial, and administered to me through a pieceof quill in the cork, when I was supposed to be in want of something torestore my voice. Sometimes, to make it more powerful, he was so kind asto squeeze orange juice into it, or to stir it up with ginger, ordissolve a peppermint drop in it.

  We seem to me to have been months over Peregrine, and months more overthe other stories. The school never flagged for want of a story, I amcertain; and the wine lasted out almost as well as the matter. PoorTraddles--I never thi
nk of that boy but with a strange disposition tolaugh, and with tears in my eyes--was a sort of echo to the story; andpretended to be overcome with laughing at the funny parts, and to beovercome with fear when there was any passage of an alarming characterin the story. This rather put me out very often. It was a great jest ofhis, I recollect, to pretend that he couldn't keep his teeth fromchattering, whenever mention was made of an Alguazil in connection withthe adventures of Gil Blas; and I remember when Gil Blas met the captainof the robbers in Madrid, this unlucky joker acted such a shudder ofterror that he was overheard by Mr. Creakle, who was prowling about thepassage, and handsomely flogged for disorderly conduct in the bedroom.

  One day I had a visit from Mr. Peggotty and Ham, who had brought twoenormous lobsters, a huge crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, asthey "remembered I was partial to a relish with my meals."

  I was proud to introduce my friend Steerforth to these kind, simplefriends, and told them how good Steerforth was to me, and how he helpedme with my work and took care of me, and Steerforth delighted thefishermen with his friendly, pleasant manners.

  The "relish" was greatly enjoyed by the boys at supper that night. Onlypoor Traddles became very ill from eating crab so late.

  At last the holidays came, and I went home. The carrier, Barkis, met meat Yarmouth, and was rather gruff, which I soon found out was because hehad not had any answer to his message. I promised to ask Peggotty forone.

  Ah, what a strange feeling it was to be going home when it was not home,and to find that every object I looked at reminded me of the happy oldhome, which was like a dream I could never dream again!

  God knows how like a child the memory may have been that was awakenedwithin me by the sound of my mother's voice in the old parlor, when Iset foot in the hall.

  I believed, from the solitary and thoughtful way in which my mothermurmured her song, that she was alone. And I went softly into the room.She was sitting by the fire, nursing an infant, whose tiny hand she heldagainst her neck. Her eyes were looking down upon its face, and she satsinging to it. I was so far right, that she had no other companion.

  I spoke to her, and she started, and cried out. But seeing me, shecalled me her dear Davy, her own boy; and, coming half across the roomto meet me, kneeled down upon the ground and kissed me, and laid my headdown on her bosom near the little creature that was nestling there, andput its hand up to my lips.

  I wish I had died. I wish I had died then, with that feeling in myheart! I should have been more fit for heaven than I ever have beensince.

  "He is your brother," said my mother, fondling me. "Davy, my pretty boy:my poor child!" Then she kissed me more and more, and clasped me roundthe neck. This she was doing when Peggotty came running in, and bounceddown on the ground beside us and went mad about us both for a quarter ofan hour.

  We had a very happy afternoon the day I came. Mr. and Miss Murdstonewere out, and I sat with my mother and Peggotty, and told them all aboutmy school and Steerforth, and took the little baby in my arms and nursedit lovingly. But when the Murdstones came back I was more unhappy thanever.

  I felt uncomfortable about going down to breakfast in The morning, as Ihad never set eyes on Mr. Murdstone since the day when I committed mymemorable offense. However, as it must be done, I went down, after twoor three false starts halfway, and as many runs back on tiptoe to my ownroom, and presented myself in the parlor.

  He was standing before the fire with his back to it, while MissMurdstone made the tea. He looked at me steadily as I entered, but madeno sign of recognition whatever.

  I went up to him, after a moment of confusion, and said, "I beg yourpardon, sir. I am very sorry for what I did, and I hope you will forgiveme."

  "I am glad to hear you are sorry, David," he replied.

  "How do you do, ma'am?" I said to Miss Murdstone.

  "Ah, dear me!" sighed Miss Murdstone, giving me the tea-caddy scoopinstead of her finger. "How long are the holidays?"

  "A month, ma'am."

  "Counting from when?"

  "From to-day, ma'am."

  "Oh!" said Miss Murdstone. "Then here's _one_ day off."

  She kept a calendar of the holidays in this way, and every morningchecked a day off in exactly the same manner. She did it gloomily untilshe came to ten, but when she got into two figures she became morehopeful, and, as the time advanced, even jocular.

  Thus the holidays lagged away, until the morning came when MissMurdstone said: "Here's the last day off!" and gave me the closing cupof tea of the vacation.

  I was not sorry to go. Again Mr. Barkis appeared at the gate, and againMiss Murdstone in her warning voice said: "Clara!" when my mother bentover me, to bid me farewell.

  I kissed her and my baby brother; it is not so much the embrace she gaveme that lives in my mind, though it was as fervent as could be, as whatfollowed the embrace.

  I was in the carrier's cart when I heard her calling to me. I lookedout, and she stood at the garden gate alone, holding her baby up in herarms for me to see. It was cold, still weather; and not a hair of herhead, or fold of her dress, was stirred, as she looked intently at me,holding up her child.

  So I lost her. So I saw her afterwards in my sleep at school--a silentpresence near my bed--looking at me with the same intent face--holdingup her baby in her arms.

  About two months after I had been back at school I was sent for one dayto go into the parlor. I hurried in joyfully, for it was my birthday,and I thought it might be a box from Peggotty--but, alas! no; it wasvery sad news Mrs. Creakle had to give me--my dear mamma had died! Mrs.Creakle was very kind and gentle to me, and the boys, especiallyTraddles, were very sorry for me.

  I went home the next day, and heard that the dear baby had died too.Peggotty received me with great tenderness, and told me about mymother's illness and how she had sent a loving message to me.

  "Tell my dearest boy that his mother, as she lay here, blessed him notonce, but a thousand times," and she had prayed to God to protect andkeep her fatherless boy.

  Mr. Murdstone did not take any notice of me, nor had Miss Murdstone aword of kindness for me. Peggotty was to leave in a month, and, to mygreat joy, I was allowed to go with her on a visit to Mr. Peggotty. Onour way I found out that the mysterious message I had given to Peggottymeant that Barkis wanted to marry her, and Peggotty had consented.Everyone in Mr. Peggotty's cottage was pleased to see me, and did theirbest to comfort me. Little Em'ly was at school when I arrived, and Iwent out to meet her. I knew the way by which she would come, andpresently found myself strolling along the path to meet her.

  A figure appeared in the distance before long, and I soon knew it to beEm'ly, who was a little creature still in stature, though she was grown.But when she drew nearer, and I saw her blue eyes looking bluer, and herdimpled face looking brighter, and her own self prettier and gayer, acurious feeling came over me that made me pretend not to know her, andpass by as if I were looking at something a long way off. I have donesuch a thing since in later life, or I am mistaken.

  Little Em'ly didn't care a bit. She saw me well enough; but instead ofturning round and calling after me, ran away laughing. This obliged meto run after her, and she ran so fast that we were very near the cottagebefore I caught her.

  "Oh, it's you, is it?" said little Em'ly.

  "Why, you knew who it was, Em'ly," said I.

  "And didn't _you_ know who it was?" said Em'ly. I was going to kiss her,but she covered her cherry lips with her hands, and said she wasn't ababy now, and ran away, laughing more than ever, into the house.

  She seemed to delight in teasing me, which was a change in her Iwondered at very much. The tea-table was ready, and our little lockerwas put out in its old place, but instead of coming to sit by me, shewent and bestowed her company upon that grumbling Mrs. Gummidge; and onMr. Peggotty's inquiring why, rumpled her hair all over her face to hideit, and would do nothing but laugh.

  "A little puss it is!" said Mr. Peggotty, patting her with his greathand.

  "A
h," said Peggotty, running his fingers through her bright curls,"here's another orphan, you see, sir, and here," giving Ham a backhandedknock in the chest, "is another of 'em, though he don't look much likeit."

  "If I had _you_ for a guardian, Mr. Peggotty," said I, "I don't think Ishould _feel_ much like it."

  Em'ly was confused by our all observing her, and hung down her head, andher face was covered with blushes. Glancing up presently through herstray curls, and seeing that we were all looking at her still (I am sureI, for one, could have looked at her for hours), she ran away, and keptaway till it was nearly bedtime.

  I lay down in the old little bed in the stern of the boat, and the windcame moaning on across the flat as it had done before. But I could nothelp fancying, now that it moaned, of those who were gone; and insteadof thinking that the sea might rise in the night and float the boataway, I thought of the sea that had risen, since I last heard thosesounds, and drowned my happy home, I recollect, as the wind and waterbegan to sound fainter in my ears, putting a short clause into myprayers, petitioning that I might grow up to marry little Em'ly, and sodropping lovingly asleep.

  During this visit Peggotty was married to Mr. Barkis, and had a nicelittle house of her own, and I spent the night before I was to returnhome in a little room in the roof.

  "Young or old, Davy dear, so long as I have this house over my head,"said Peggotty, "you shall find it as if I expected you here directlyevery minute. I shall keep it as I used to keep your old little room, mydarling, and if you was to go to China, you might think of its beingkept just the same all the time you were away."

  I felt how good and true a friend she was, and thanked her as well as Icould, for they had brought me to the gate of my home, and Peggotty hadme clasped in her arms.

  I was poor and lonely at home, with no one near to speak a loving word,or a face to look on with love or liking, only the two persons who hadbroken my mother's heart. How utterly wretched and forlorn I felt! Ifound I was not to go back to school any more, and wandered about sadand solitary, neglected and uncared for. Peggotty's weekly visits weremy only comfort. I longed to go to school, however hard an one, to betaught something anyhow, anywhere--but no one took any pains with me,and I had no friends near who could help me.

  At last one day, after some weary months had passed, Mr. Murdstone toldme I was to go to London and earn my own living. There was a place forme at Murdstone & Grinby's, a firm in the wine trade. My lodging andclothes would be provided for me by my step-father, and I would earnenough for my food and pocket money. The next day, I was sent up toLondon with the manager, dressed in a shabby little white hat with blackcrape round it for my mother, a black jacket, and hard, stiff corduroytrousers, a little fellow of ten years old, to fight my own battles withthe world!

  My place, I found, was one of the lowest in the firm of Murdstone &Grinby, with boys of no education and in quite an inferior station tomyself--my duties were to wash the bottles, stick on labels, and so on.I was utterly miserable at being degraded in this way, when I thought ofmy former companions, Steerforth and Traddles, and my hopes of becominga learned and famous man, and shed bitter tears, as I feared I wouldforget all I had learnt at school. My lodging, one bare little room, wasin the house of some people named Micawber, shiftless, careless,good-natured people, who were always in debt and difficulties. I feltgreat pity for their misfortunes and did what I could to help poor Mrs.Micawber to sell her books and other little things she could spare, tobuy food for herself, her husband, and their four children. I was tooyoung and childish to know how to provide properly for myself, and oftenfound I was obliged to live on bread and slices of cold pudding at theend of the week. If I had not been a very innocent-minded, good littleboy, I might easily have fallen into bad ways at this time. But God tookcare of me and kept me from harm. I would not even tell Peggotty howmiserable I was, for fear of distressing her.

  The troubles of the Micawbers increased more and more, until at lastthey were obliged to leave London. I was very sad at this, for I hadbeen with them so long that I felt they were my friends, and theprospect of being once more utterly alone and having to find a lodgingwith strangers, made me so unhappy that I determined to endure this sortof life no longer. The last Sunday the Micawbers were in town I dinedwith them. I had bought a spotted horse for their little boy and a dollfor the little girl, and had saved up a shilling for the poorservant-girl. After I had seen them off the next morning by the coach, Iwrote to Peggotty to ask her if she knew where my aunt, Miss BetsyTrotwood, lived, and to borrow half-a-guinea; for I had resolved to runaway from Murdstone & Grinby's, and go to this aunt and tell her mystory. I remembered my mother telling me of her visit when I was a baby,and that she fancied Miss Betsy had stroked her hair gently, and thisgave me courage to appeal to her. Peggotty wrote, enclosing thehalf-guinea, and saying she only knew Miss Trotwood lived near Dover,but whether in that place itself, or at Folkestone, Sandgate, or Hythe,she could not tell. Hearing that all these places were close together, Imade up my mind to start. As I had received my week's wages in advance,I waited till the following Saturday, thinking it would not be honest togo before. I went out to look for someone to carry my box to the coachoffice, and unfortunately hired a wicked young man who not only ran offwith the box, but robbed me of my half-guinea, leaving me in diredistress. In despair, I started off to walk to Dover, and was forced tosell my waistcoat to buy some bread. The first night I found my way tomy old school at Blackheath, and slept on a haystack close by, feelingsome comfort in the thought of the boys being near. I knew Steerforthhad left, or I would have tried to see him.

  On I trudged the next day and sold my jacket at Chatham to a dreadfulold man, who kept me waiting all day for the money, which was only oneshilling and fourpence. I was afraid to buy anything but bread or tospend any money on a bed or a shelter for the night, and was terriblyfrightened by some rough tramps, who threw stones at me when I did notanswer to their calls. After six days, I arrived at Dover, ragged,dusty, and half-dead with hunger and fatigue. But here, at first, Icould get no tidings of my aunt, and, in despair, was going to try someof the other places Peggotty had mentioned, when the driver of a flydropped his horsecloth, and as I was handing it up to him, I sawsomething kind in the man's face that encouraged me to ask once more ifhe knew where Miss Trotwood lived.

  The man directed me towards some houses on the heights, and thither Itoiled. Going into a little shop, I by chance met with Miss Trotwood'smaid, who showed me the house, and went in leaving me standing at thegate, a forlorn little creature, without a jacket or waistcoat, my whitehat crushed out of shape, my shoes worn out, my shirt and trousers tornand stained, my pretty curly hair tangled, my face and hands sunburntand covered with dust. Lifting my eyes to one of the windows above, Isaw a pleasant-faced gentleman with gray hair, who nodded at me severaltimes, then shook his head and went away. I was just turning away tothink what I should do, when a tall, erect elderly lady, with agardening apron on and a knife in her hand, came out of the house, andbegan to dig up a root in the garden.

  "Go away," she said. "Go away. No boys here."

  But I felt desperate. Going in softly, I stood beside her, and touchedher with my finger, and said timidly, "If you please, ma'am--" and whenshe looked up, I went on--

  "Please, aunt, I am your nephew."

  "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed in astonishment, and sat flat down on thepath, staring at me, while I went on--

  "I am David Copperfield of Blunderstone, in Suffolk, where you came thenight I was born, and saw my dear mamma. I have been very unhappy sinceshe died. I have been neglected and taught nothing, and thrown uponmyself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. Iwas robbed at first starting out and have walked all the way, and havenever slept in a bed since I began the journey." Here I broke into apassion of crying, and my aunt jumped up and took me into the house,where she opened a cupboard and took out some bottles, pouring some ofthe contents of each into my mouth, not noticing in her agitation whatthey we
re, for I fancied I tasted anise-seed water, anchovy sauce, andsalad dressing! Then she put me on the sofa and sent the servant to ask"Mr. Dick" to come down. The gentleman whom I had seen at the windowcame in and was told by Miss Trotwood who the ragged little object onthe sofa was, and she finished by saying--

  "Now here you see young David Copperfield, and the question is whatshall I do with him?"

  "Do with him?" answered Mr. Dick. Then, after some consideration, andlooking at me, he said, "Well, if I was you, I should wash him!"

  Miss Trotwood was quite pleased at this, and a warm bath was got readyat once, after which I was dressed in a shirt and trousers belonging toMr. Dick (for Janet had burnt my rags), rolled up in several shawls, andput on the sofa till dinner-time, where I slept, and woke with theimpression that my aunt had come and put my hair off my face, andmurmured, "Pretty fellow, poor fellow."

  After dinner I had to tell my story all over again to my aunt and Mr.Dick. Miss Trotwood again asked Mr. Dick's advice, and was delightedwhen that gentleman suggested I should be put to bed. I knelt down tosay my prayers that night in a pleasant room facing the sea, and as Ilay in the clean, snow-white bed, I felt so grateful and comforted thatI prayed earnestly I might never be homeless again, and might neverforget the homeless.

  The next morning my aunt told me she had written to Mr. Murdstone. I wasalarmed to think that my step-father knew where I was, and exclaimed--

  "Oh, I don't know what I shall do if I have to go back to Mr.Murdstone!"

  But my aunt said nothing of her intentions, and I was uncertain what wasto become of me. I hoped she might befriend me.

  At last Mr. and Miss Murdstone arrived. To Miss Betsy's greatindignation, Miss Murdstone rode a donkey across the green in front ofthe house, and stopped at the gate. Nothing made Miss Trotwood so angryas to see donkeys on that green, and I had already seen several battlesbetween my aunt or Janet and the donkey boys.

  After driving away the donkey and the boy who had dared to bring itthere, Miss Trotwood received her visitors. She kept me near her, fencedin with a chair.

  Mr. Murdstone told Miss Betsy that I was a very bad, stubborn,violent-tempered boy, whom he had tried to improve, but could notsucceed; that he had put me in a respectable business from which I hadrun away. If Miss Trotwood chose to protect and encourage me now, shemust do it always, for he had come to fetch me away from there and then,and if I was ready to come, and Miss Trotwood did not wish to give me upto be dealt with exactly as Mr. Murdstone liked, he would cast me offfor always, and have no more to do with me.

  "Are you ready to go, David?" asked my aunt.

  But I answered no, and begged and prayed her for my father's sake tobefriend and protect me, for neither Mr. nor Miss Murdstone had everliked me or been kind to me and had made my mamma, who always loved medearly, very unhappy about me, and I had been very miserable.

  "Mr. Dick," said Miss Trotwood, "what shall I do with this child?"

  Mr. Dick considered. "Have him measured for a suit of clothes directly."

  "Mr. Dick," said Miss Trotwood, "your common sense is invaluable."

  Then she pulled me towards her, and said to Mr. Murdstone, "You can gowhen you like. I'll take my chance with the boy. If he's all you say heis I can at least do as much for him as you have done. But I don'tbelieve a word of it."

  Then she told Mr. Murdstone what she thought of the way he had treatedme and my mother, which did not make that gentleman feel verycomfortable, and finished by turning to Miss Murdstone and saying--

  "Good-day to you, too, ma'am, and if I ever see you ride a donkey acrossmy green again, as sure as you have a head upon your shoulders, I'llknock your bonnet off and tread upon it!"

  This startled Miss Murdstone so much that she went off quite quietlywith her brother, while I, overjoyed, threw my arms round my aunt'sneck, and kissed and thanked her with great heartiness.

  Some clothes were bought for me that same day and marked "TrotwoodCopperfield," for my aunt wished to call me by her name.

  Now I felt my troubles were over, and I began quite a new life, wellcared for and kindly treated. I was sent to a very nice school inCanterbury, where my aunt left me with these words, which I neverforgot:

  "Trot, be a credit to yourself, to me, and Mr. Dick, and heaven be withyou. Never be mean in anything, never be false, never be cruel. Avoidthese three vices, Trot, and I shall always be hopeful of you?"

  I did my best to show my gratitude to my dear aunt by studying hard, andtrying to be all she could wish.

  When you are older you can read how Little David Copperfield grew up tobe a good, clever man, and met again all his old friends, and made manynew ones.

  Also, what became of Steerforth, Traddles, the Peggottys, little Em'ly,and the Micawbers.