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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 392/820
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‘
SIR
—
for
I
dare
not
say
my
dear
Copperfield
,
‘
It
is
expedient
that
I
should
inform
you
that
the
undersigned
is
Crushed
.
Some
flickering
efforts
to
spare
you
the
premature
knowledge
of
his
calamitous
position
,
you
may
observe
in
him
this
day
;
but
hope
has
sunk
beneath
the
horizon
,
and
the
undersigned
is
Crushed
.
‘
The
present
communication
is
penned
within
the
personal
range
(
I
cannot
call
it
the
society
)
of
an
individual
,
in
a
state
closely
bordering
on
intoxication
,
employed
by
a
broker
.
That
individual
is
in
legal
possession
of
the
premises
,
under
a
distress
for
rent
.
His
inventory
includes
,
not
only
the
chattels
and
effects
of
every
description
belonging
to
the
undersigned
,
as
yearly
tenant
of
this
habitation
,
but
also
those
appertaining
to
Mr
.
Thomas
Traddles
,
lodger
,
a
member
of
the
Honourable
Society
of
the
Inner
Temple
‘
If
any
drop
of
gloom
were
wanting
in
the
overflowing
cup
,
which
is
now
“
commended
”
(
in
the
language
of
an
immortal
Writer
)
to
the
lips
of
the
undersigned
,
it
would
be
found
in
the
fact
,
that
a
friendly
acceptance
granted
to
the
undersigned
,
by
the
before
-
mentioned
Mr
.
Thomas
Traddles
,
for
the
sum
Of
23l
4s
9
12d
is
over
due
,
and
is
NOT
provided
for
.
Also
,
in
the
fact
that
the
living
responsibilities
clinging
to
the
undersigned
will
,
in
the
course
of
nature
,
be
increased
by
the
sum
of
one
more
helpless
victim
;
whose
miserable
appearance
may
be
looked
for
—
in
round
numbers
—
at
the
expiration
of
a
period
not
exceeding
six
lunar
months
from
the
present
date
.
‘
After
premising
thus
much
,
it
would
be
a
work
of
supererogation
to
add
,
that
dust
and
ashes
are
for
ever
scattered
‘
On
‘
The
‘
Head
‘
Of
‘
WILKINS
MICAWBER
.
’
