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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 153/820
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Micawber
in
reference
to
my
age
,
or
whether
she
was
so
full
of
the
subject
that
she
would
have
talked
about
it
to
the
very
twins
if
there
had
been
nobody
else
to
communicate
with
,
but
this
was
the
strain
in
which
she
began
,
and
she
went
on
accordingly
all
the
time
I
knew
her
.
Poor
Mrs
.
Micawber
!
She
said
she
had
tried
to
exert
herself
,
and
so
,
I
have
no
doubt
,
she
had
.
The
centre
of
the
street
door
was
perfectly
covered
with
a
great
brass
-
plate
,
on
which
was
engraved
‘
Mrs
.
Micawber
’
s
Boarding
Establishment
for
Young
Ladies
’
:
but
I
never
found
that
any
young
lady
had
ever
been
to
school
there
;
or
that
any
young
lady
ever
came
,
or
proposed
to
come
;
or
that
the
least
preparation
was
ever
made
to
receive
any
young
lady
.
The
only
visitors
I
ever
saw
,
or
heard
of
,
were
creditors
.
THEY
used
to
come
at
all
hours
,
and
some
of
them
were
quite
ferocious
.
One
dirty
-
faced
man
,
I
think
he
was
a
boot
-
maker
,
used
to
edge
himself
into
the
passage
as
early
as
seven
o
’
clock
in
the
morning
,
and
call
up
the
stairs
to
Mr
.
Micawber
—
‘
Come
!
You
ain
’
t
out
yet
,
you
know
.
Pay
us
,
will
you
?
Don
’
t
hide
,
you
know
;
that
’
s
mean
.
I
wouldn
’
t
be
mean
if
I
was
you
.
Pay
us
,
will
you
?
You
just
pay
us
,
d
’
ye
hear
?
Come
!
’
Receiving
no
answer
to
these
taunts
,
he
would
mount
in
his
wrath
to
the
words
‘
swindlers
’
and
‘
robbers
’
;
and
these
being
ineffectual
too
,
would
sometimes
go
to
the
extremity
of
crossing
the
street
,
and
roaring
up
at
the
windows
of
the
second
floor
,
where
he
knew
Mr
.
Micawber
was
.
At
these
times
,
Mr
.
Micawber
would
be
transported
with
grief
and
mortification
,
even
to
the
length
(
as
I
was
once
made
aware
by
a
scream
from
his
wife
)
of
making
motions
at
himself
with
a
razor
;
but
within
half
-
an
-
hour
afterwards
,
he
would
polish
up
his
shoes
with
extraordinary
pains
,
and
go
out
,
humming
a
tune
with
a
greater
air
of
gentility
than
ever
.
Mrs
.
Micawber
was
quite
as
elastic
.
I
have
known
her
to
be
thrown
into
fainting
fits
by
the
king
’
s
taxes
at
three
o
’
clock
,
and
to
eat
lamb
chops
,
breaded
,
and
drink
warm
ale
(
paid
for
with
two
tea
-
spoons
that
had
gone
to
the
pawnbroker
’
s
)
at
four
.
On
one
occasion
,
when
an
execution
had
just
been
put
in
,
coming
home
through
some
chance
as
early
as
six
o
’
clock
,
I
saw
her
lying
(
of
course
with
a
twin
)
under
the
grate
in
a
swoon
,
with
her
hair
all
torn
about
her
face
;
but
I
never
knew
her
more
cheerful
than
she
was
,
that
very
same
night
,
over
a
veal
cutlet
before
the
kitchen
fire
,
telling
me
stories
about
her
papa
and
mama
,
and
the
company
they
used
to
keep
.
In
this
house
,
and
with
this
family
,
I
passed
my
leisure
time
.
My
own
exclusive
breakfast
of
a
penny
loaf
and
a
pennyworth
of
milk
,
I
provided
myself
.
I
kept
another
small
loaf
,
and
a
modicum
of
cheese
,
on
a
particular
shelf
of
a
particular
cupboard
,
to
make
my
supper
on
when
I
came
back
at
night
.
This
made
a
hole
in
the
six
or
seven
shillings
,
I
know
well
;
and
I
was
out
at
the
warehouse
all
day
,
and
had
to
support
myself
on
that
money
all
the
week
.
From
Monday
morning
until
Saturday
night
,
I
had
no
advice
,
no
counsel
,
no
encouragement
,
no
consolation
,
no
assistance
,
no
support
,
of
any
kind
,
from
anyone
,
that
I
can
call
to
mind
,
as
I
hope
to
go
to
heaven
!
I
was
so
young
and
childish
,
and
so
little
qualified
—
how
could
I
be
otherwise
?
—
to
undertake
the
whole
charge
of
my
own
existence
,
that
often
,
in
going
to
Murdstone
and
Grinby
’
s
,
of
a
morning
,
I
could
not
resist
the
stale
pastry
put
out
for
sale
at
half
-
price
at
the
pastrycooks
’
doors
,
and
spent
in
that
the
money
I
should
have
kept
for
my
dinner
.
Then
,
I
went
without
my
dinner
,
or
bought
a
roll
or
a
slice
of
pudding
.
I
remember
two
pudding
shops
,
between
which
I
was
divided
,
according
to
my
finances
.
One
was
in
a
court
close
to
St
.
Martin
’
s
Church
—
at
the
back
of
the
church
,
—
which
is
now
removed
altogether
.
The
pudding
at
that
shop
was
made
of
currants
,
and
was
rather
a
special
pudding
,
but
was
dear
,
twopennyworth
not
being
larger
than
a
pennyworth
of
more
ordinary
pudding
.
A
good
shop
for
the
latter
was
in
the
Strand
—
somewhere
in
that
part
which
has
been
rebuilt
since
.
It
was
a
stout
pale
pudding
,
heavy
and
flabby
,
and
with
great
flat
raisins
in
it
,
stuck
in
whole
at
wide
distances
apart
.
It
came
up
hot
at
about
my
time
every
day
,
and
many
a
day
did
I
dine
off
it
.
When
I
dined
regularly
and
handsomely
,
I
had
a
saveloy
and
a
penny
loaf
,
or
a
fourpenny
plate
of
red
beef
from
a
cook
’
s
shop
;
or
a
plate
of
bread
and
cheese
and
a
glass
of
beer
,
from
a
miserable
old
public
-
house
opposite
our
place
of
business
,
called
the
Lion
,
or
the
Lion
and
something
else
that
I
have
forgotten
.
Once
,
I
remember
carrying
my
own
bread
(
which
I
had
brought
from
home
in
the
morning
)
under
my
arm
,
wrapped
in
a
piece
of
paper
,
like
a
book
,
and
going
to
a
famous
alamode
beef
-
house
near
Drury
Lane
,
and
ordering
a
‘
small
plate
’
of
that
delicacy
to
eat
with
it
.
What
the
waiter
thought
of
such
a
strange
little
apparition
coming
in
all
alone
,
I
don
’
t
know
;
but
I
can
see
him
now
,
staring
at
me
as
I
ate
my
dinner
,
and
bringing
up
the
other
waiter
to
look
.
I
gave
him
a
halfpenny
for
himself
,
and
I
wish
he
hadn
’
t
taken
it
.
We
had
half
-
an
-
hour
,
I
think
,
for
tea
.
When
I
had
money
enough
,
I
used
to
get
half
-
a
-
pint
of
ready
-
made
coffee
and
a
slice
of
bread
and
butter
.
When
I
had
none
,
I
used
to
look
at
a
venison
shop
in
Fleet
Street
;
or
I
have
strolled
,
at
such
a
time
,
as
far
as
Covent
Garden
Market
,
and
stared
at
the
pineapples
.
I
was
fond
of
wandering
about
the
Adelphi
,
because
it
was
a
mysterious
place
,
with
those
dark
arches
.
I
see
myself
emerging
one
evening
from
some
of
these
arches
,
on
a
little
public
-
house
close
to
the
river
,
with
an
open
space
before
it
,
where
some
coal
-
heavers
were
dancing
;
to
look
at
whom
I
sat
down
upon
a
bench
.
I
wonder
what
they
thought
of
me
!
I
was
such
a
child
,
and
so
little
,
that
frequently
when
I
went
into
the
bar
of
a
strange
public
-
house
for
a
glass
of
ale
or
porter
,
to
moisten
what
I
had
had
for
dinner
,
they
were
afraid
to
give
it
me
.
I
remember
one
hot
evening
I
went
into
the
bar
of
a
public
-
house
,
and
said
to
the
landlord
:
‘
What
is
your
best
—
your
very
best
—
ale
a
glass
?
’
For
it
was
a
special
occasion
.
I
don
’
t
know
what
.
It
may
have
been
my
birthday
.
