28. CHARLES DICKENS: DAVID COPPERFIELD: CHAPTER 28: MR MICAWBER'S GAUNTLET

Until the day on which I was to entertain my newly found old friends, I lived principally on Dora and coffee.  In my love-torn condition my appetite languished, and I was glad of it, for I felt as though it would have been an act of perfidy towards Dora to have a natural relish for my dinner.  I lost my interest in walking, as the disappointment countered with fresh air.  Besides I had my doubt as to the enjoyment of animal food.  I think extreme feelings should go away before the normality of stomach returned. 

On the occasion of this little domestic party, I did not repeat my former extensive preparations.  I merely provided a pair of soles, a small leg of mutton, and a pigeon pie.  This change was on account of Mrs Crupp's rebellion against my idea of fish, and a compromise was brought about.

I brought a second hand dumb waiter for this dinner party.  I did not re-engage the handy young man, who was handy in the former dinner party.  This was not without reason.  After the former party I found one of my waist coat missing.  But I did not make any fuss about it to Mrs Crupp, though I told her of it.  Later, one Sunday morning, in Strand I found the handy young man in a waistcoat, remarkably like that of my lost one.  I passed on this information to Mrs Crupp, but did not receive any response from her.  The young girl was re-engaged on the stipulation, that she should only bring the dishes, and then withdraw to the landing place, beyond the outer door where her sniffing would be lost upon the guests; and where her retiring on the plates would be physically impossible. 

To get this arrangement agreed by Mrs Crupp, I had to agree to her stipulation that I should have meals at home for a fortnight.  The previous dinner party was arranged according to her will and pleasure.  This time, I took control of everything, and this did not go well with Mrs Crupp, and she was cross, and showed her resentment, though she did not break away. 

Having laid the material for a bowl of punch, to be compounded by Mr Micawber, to be provided by a bottle of lavender-water, two wax candles, a paper of mixed pins, and a pin cushion to assist Mrs Micawber in her toilet at my dressing table, having also caused the fire in my bedroom lighted for Mrs Micawber's convenience, and having laid the cloth with my own hands, I awaited the result with composure.

The three visitors came together at the appointed time; Mr Micawber with more shirt-collar than usual and a new ribbon to his eye glass; Mrs Micawber with her cap in white-brown paper parcel; Traddles carrying the parcel, and supporting Mrs Micawber on his arm.  They were all delighted with my residence.  When I conducted Mrs Micawber to my dressing table and she saw the scale on which it was prepared for her, she was in such rapture, that she called Mr Micawber to come in and look.

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr Micawber, 'this is luxurious.  This is a way of life which reminds me of the period when I was myself in a state of celibacy, and Mrs Micawber had not yet been solicited to plight her faith at Hymeneal altar.'

'He means solicited by him, Copperfield,' said Mrs Micawber, archly.  'He cannot answer for others.'

'My dear,' returned Mr Micawber with sudden seriousness, 'I have no desire to answer for others.  I am too well aware that, when in the inscrutable decrees of Fate, you were reserved for me, it is possible you may have been reserved for one, destined for a protracted struggle, at length to fall a victim to pecuniary involvement of complicated nature.  I understand your allusion, my love.  I regret it, but I can bear it.'

'Micawber!' exclaimed Mrs Micawber, in tears.  'Have I deserved this!  I who never have deserted you, who never will desert you, Micawber!'

'My love,' said Micawber, much affected, 'you will forgive, and our old and tried friend Copperfield will, I am sure, forgive, the momentary laceration of a wounded spirit, made sensitive by a recent collision, with the Minion of Power - in other words, with a ribald Turncock  attached to the water-works - and will pity, not condemn its exesses.'

Mr Micawber then embraced Mrs Micawber, and pressed my hand, leaving me to infer from this broken allusion that his domestic supply of water had been cut off that afternoon, for default of payment of the company's rates. To divert his thoughts, I led him to lemons, and then to a bowl of punch.  His despair was gone in a moment.  I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself among the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning rum, and the steam of boiling water, as Mr Micawber did that afternoon.  It was wonderful to see his face shining at us, as he stirred, and mixed, and tasted, and looked as if he were making his fortune for his family.  As to Mrs Micawber, whether it was the effect of the cap, or the lavender water, or the pins, or the fire or the wax candles, that she came out of my room speaking lovely. 

After the dinner party, Mrs Crupp was ill.  Frying the soles for dinner party was her last assignment.  I remember that the leg of mutton came up very red within, and very pale without, besides a foreign gritty substance was sprinkled over it, as if it had had a fall in the ashes of kitchen fireplace.  Moreover, the gravy was dropped, perhaps by the 'young gal' on all the stairs, where it remained, in a long train until it was worn out.  The pigeon pie was not bad, but was full of lumps and bumps, with nothing particular underneath.  In short, the feat was a failure, that I should have been unhappy, and I was always unhappy about Dora, but a great good humour by the company, and by a bright suggestion by Mr Micawber.

'Mr Copperfield,' said Mr Micawber,' accidents occur in regulated families and not regulated families and it enhances by woman, expect it with confidence, and bear it with philosophy.  Neither constable nor devil stands in their way.  Get a gridiron and reduce the misfortune by half.

There was a gridiron in the pantry, on which my morning rasher of bacon was cooked.  In a twinkling, we put Mr Micawber's idea into practice. The division of labour was carried out thus: Traddles cut the mutton into slices; Mr Micawber covered them with pepper, mustard, salt and cayenne; I put them on gridiron, turned them with a fork, and took them off under Mr Micawber's direction; and Mrs Micawber heated, and continually stirred some mushroom ketchup in a little saucepan. 

What with the novelty of cookery, the excellence of it, the bustle of it, the frequent starting up to look after it, the frequent sitting down to dispose of it as the crisp slices came off the gridiron hot and hot, the being so busy, so flushed with the fire, so amused, and in the midst of such a tempting noise and savour, we reduced the leg of mutton into a bone.  My own appetite came back like a miracle.  I am ashamed to record it, but I really forgot Dora for a little while.  I am satisfied that Mr and Mrs Micawber could not have enjoyed the feast more, if they had sold a bed to provide it.  Traddles laughed as heartily, almost the whole time, as he ate and worked.  Indeed we all did, all at once, and there was never a greater success.

We were at the height of our enjoyment, and were busily engaged, and were trying to bring the last batch of slices to perfection, when I felt a strange presence in the room, and my eyes encountered those of staid Littimer standing hat in hand before me.

'What is the matter?' I involuntarily asked 

'I beg your pardon, sir, I was directed to come in.  Is my master not here, sir?'

'No,' 

'Have you not seen him, sir?'

'No, don't you come from home?'

'Not immediately so, sir.'

'Did he tell you, you would find him here?'

'Not exactly so, sir.  But I should think he might be here tomorrow, as he has not been here today.' 

'Is he coming up from Oxford?'

'I beg, sir,' he returned respectfully, ' that you will be seated, and allow me to do this.' With which he took the fork from my unresisting hand, and bent over the gridiron, as if his whole attention were concentrated on it.

We should not have been much disturbed by the appearance of Steerforth himself, but we became, in a moment, the weakest of the weak, before Littimer, the servant of Steerforth.  Mr Micawber,  humming a tune, to show that he was quite at ease, subsided into a chair, with the handle of hastily concealed fork sticking out of the bosom of his coat, as if he had stabbed himself.  Mrs Micawber put on her brown gloves, and assumed a genteel languor.  Traddles ran his greasy hands through his hair, and stood it bolt upright, and stared in confusion on the table cloth.  As to me, I was a mere infant at the head of my own table; and hardly ventured to glance at the respectable phenomenon, who had come from where only Heaven knew.

Meanwhile he took the mutton off the gridiron, and gravely handed it round.  We all took one, and made a show of eating it.  As we stopped eating, he removed our plates and set on his cheese.  When it was done, he cleared the table, piled everything on the dumb waiter and gave us our wine glasses, and wheeled the dumb waiter to the pantry.  All this was done in a perfect manner, as though he seemed to hold the view that I was extremely young.

'Can I do anything more, sir?'

I thanked him and said No; but would he take no dinner himself?

'None, I am obliged to you, sir.'

'Is Mr Steerforth coming from Oxford?'

'I beg your pardon, sir?'

I repeated the question.

'I should imagine that he might be here tomorrow, sir.  I rather thought he might have been here today, sir.  The mistake is mine, sir.'

'If you should see him first-' said I.

'If you will excuse me, sir, I don't think I shall see him first.' 

'In case you do,' said I, 'pray say that I am so sorry he was not here today, as an old school fellow of his was here.'

'Indeed, sir!' he divided a bow between me and Traddles, with a glance at the latter.

He was moving softly to the door, when, in a forlorn hope of saying something naturally- which I could never say to this man - I said, 'Oh! Littimer!' 

'Sir!'

'Did you remain long at Yarmouth, that time?'

'Not particularly so, sir.'

'You saw the boat completed?'

'Yes, sir.'  I remained on purpose to see the boat completed.'

'I know!'  He raised his eyes to mine respectfully.

'Mr Steerforth has not yet seen it, I suppose?'

'I really can't say, sir.  I think- but I really can't say, sir.  I wish you good night, sir.'

He comprehended everybody present, in the respectful bow with which, he followed these words, and disappeared.  My visitors seemed to breathe more freely when he was gone, but my own relief was very great, for besides his presence, which always disturbed me, I had a vague uneasy dread that he might find out my mistrust of his master, and also my conscience had embarassed me with whispers that I was doing wrong to my best friend. 

Mr Micawber roused me from this reflection, by bestowing many encomiums on Littimer as a most respectable fellow.

'But punch, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr Micawber, tasting it, 'like time and tide waits for no man.  Ah! it is the present moment in high flavour.  My love, will you give me your opinion?' 

Mrs Micawber pronounced it very excellent.

'Then I will drink,' said Mr Micawber, 'if my friend Copperfield will permit me to take that social liberty, to the days when my friend Copperfield and myself were younger, and fought our way in the world side by side.  I may say, of myself and Copperfield, in words we had sung together before now, that 

We twa hae run about the braes 

And pu'd the gowans' fine 

- in the figurative point of view - on several occasions, I am not exactly aware,' said Mr Micawber with the old roll in his voice, and the old indescribable air of saying something genteel, 'what gowans' may be, but I have no doubt that Copperfield and myself would frequently have taken a pull at them, if it had been feasible.'

Mr Micawber, then took a pull at his punch.  So we all did.  Traddles lost in wonder, at what time Mr Micawber and I could have been comrades in the war of world.

'Ahem!' said Micawber clearing his throat, and warming with the punch and with the fire.  'My dear, another glass?'

Mrs Micawber said it must be very little, but we couldn't allow that, so it was a full glass.

Then Mrs Micawber brought the corn business of Mr Micawber to the discussion.  She told that the commission is not enough to both ends meet.  We all agreed upon that.

'Then,' said Mrs Micawber, who prided herself on taking a clear view of things, and keeping Mr Micawber straight by her wisdom, 'then I ask myself, if corn is not to be relied upon, what is?  Are coals to be relied upon?  Not at all.  We have turned our attention to that experiment, on the suggestion of my family, and we found it fallacious.'

Mr Micawber, leaning back in his chair, with his hands in his pockets, eyed us aside, and nodded his head as much as to say that the case was clearly put. 

'The articles of corn and coal,' said Mrs Micawber, argumentatively, 'being equally out of question, Mr Copperfield, I naturally looked round the world, and found Mr Micawber's talent is not suited to commision trade.  Commission is not a certainty.  Uncertainty is not suited to his temperament.'

Traddles and myself whispered between ourselves that this was a great discovery, and it did him much credit.

'I will not conceal from you, Mr Copperfield,' said Mrs Micawber, 'that I felt brewing business to be particularly adapted to Mr Micawber.  Look at Barclay and Perkins! Look at Truman, Hanbury, and Buxton! It is on that extensive footing that Mr Micawber is to shine with enormous profit.  But Micawber is not interested, what is the use of dwelling upon it?'

'Hem, really my dear,' interposed Mr Micawber.

'My love, be silent,' said Mrs Micawber laying her brown gloves on his hand.  'I may have a conviction, Mr Copperfield, that Mr Micawber's manners peculiarly qualify him to be a banker.  I may argue within myself, that if I had a deposit in a banking house, the manner of Micawber, representing that banking house, would inspire confidence.  But if banking houses are not interested to place the money in Mr Micawber's hand, what's the use of dwelling upon it?  Again we are no farther advanced than we were before.' 

'Not a bit, not a bit,' said Traddles and I together.

'What do I deduce from this?'  Mrs Micawber went on to say still with the same air of putting the case lucidly.  'What is the conclusion, my dear Mr Copperfield, to which I am brought?  Am I wrong in saying, it is clear that we must live.' 

Both Traddles and I, said, 'Not at all.'

'Just so,' returned Mrs Micawber, 'It is precisely that.  And the fact is, my dear Copperfield, that we cannot live, without something widely different from existing circumstances shortly turning up.  I have told Mr Micawber, several times, that we cannot wait things to turn up themselves, we must do something to turn them up.'

Both Traddles and I applauded it highly. 

'Very well,' said Mrs Micawber.  'Then what do I recommend?  Here is Mr Micawber with a variety of qualifications - with great talent-' I should say, with genius, but that may be the partiality of a wife.'-'

Traddles and I, both murmured 'No' 

'And there is Mr Micawber without any position or employment.  Where does the responsibility lies?  Clearly on the society. So, Mr Micawber is to throw down the gauntlet to society, and say, "Show me who will take up that.  Let the party immediately step forward."'

I asked Mrs Micawber how this was to be done.

'By advertising,' said Mrs Micawber, 'in the papers.  Mr Micawber must do it in justice to himself, to his family, and in justice to the society.  To advertise himself plainly stating his qualification, and put thus: "Now employ me on remuneration.  (State the terms and address, post paid)"'

'This idea of Mrs Micawber, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr Micawber, making his shirt collar meet in front of his chin, and glancing at me sideways, 'is the leap to which I alluded, when I last had the pleasure of seeing you.'

'Advertising is rather expensive,' I said dubiously.

'Exactly,' said Mrs Micawber, preserving the quite logical air.  'Quite true, my dear Copperfield!  I have made the identical observation to Mr Micawber.  I think, Mr Micawber ought to raise some money - on a bill.'

Mr Micawber, leaning back on his chair, trifled with his eye glass looked at the ceiling, but I thought him observant of Traddles, too, who was looking at the fire. 

'If no member of the family,' said Mrs Micawber, 'is sufficient of natural feeling to negotiate the bill- I believe there is a better business term to express what I mean-' 

Mr Micawber with his eyes still cast up at the ceiling, suggested 'Discount' 

'To discount the bill,' said Mrs Micawber, 'Mr Micawber should go into the city, should take that bill into the money market, and should dispose of it for what he can get.  If the individuals in the money market oblige Mr Micawber to sustain a great sacrifice, that is between themselves.  I view it as an investment.  I recommend Mr Micawber, my dear Copperfield, to regard it as an investment.

I felt it a self denial, and murmured to that effect, which Traddles also followed.

'I will not,' said Mrs Micawber, finishing her punch, and gathering her scarf about her shoulders, 'I will not prolong my remarks on Mr Micawber's pecuniary affairs.  'At your fireside, Mr Copperfield, and in the presence of Mr Traddles, who is quite one of ourselves, l could not refrain from making you acquainted with the course I advise Mr Micawber to take.  The time has come for Mr Micawber to assert himself.  I am a female, and a masculine judgement is more competent to these discussions.  When I lived at my home, my papa used to say, "Emma's form is fragile but her grasp of subject is inferior to none.". My papa was too partial, I well know, but he was an observer of character.' 

With these words, inspite of our requests to grace the remaining circulation of the punch with her presence, she retired to my bedroom.  I felt she was a noble woman who might have been a Roman matron, who did all things in times of public trouble. 

In the fervour of this impression, I congratulated Mr Micawber on the treasure he possessed.  So did Traddles.  Mr Micawber extended his hand each one of us in succession, and then covered his face with his pocket handkerchief, which had more snuff upon it than he was aware of.  He returned to his punch in the highest state of exhilaration.

He was full of eloquence.  He gave us to understand that in our children we lived again, and that, pecuniary difficulties make us welcome their numbers.  He said, of late Mrs Micawber was sceptical about this point, but he dispelled her doubts and reassured her.  As to her family, they are totally unworthy of her, and they were totally indifferent to him, and they might - to use his own expression - go to the devil.

Mr Micawber then delivered a warm eulogy on Traddles.  He said Traddles was a character to the steady virtues of which he could lay no claim, but could only admire.  He alluded with feeling of the young lady whom Traddles had honoured with his affection, and the lady had reciprocated it with equal affection.   Mr Micawber promised a solemn support to her.  So did I.  Traddles returned, 'I am very much obliged to you, indeed.  And I do assure you, she is the dearest girl.'

Mr Micawber then elaborated upon my affection.  After feeling very hot and uncomfortable for sometime, and after a good deal of blushing, stammering, and denying, I said, having my glass in my hand, 'well I would give them D. !' which excited and gratified Mr Micawber, that he ran with a glass of punch to my bedroom, and Mrs Micawber drank the punch with enthusiasm, and I could hear her voice, 'Hear, hear! Mr Copperfield, I am delighted.  Hear!' and tapping at the wall by way of applause.

Our conversation afterwards took a more worldly turn, Mr Micawber telling us that he found Camden Town inconvenient, and the first thing he contemplated doing if the advertisement would bring some satisfactory result, was to move up.  He mentioned a terrace at the western end of Oxford Street, fronting Hyde Park, on which he had always had his eye, but it may cost high, and he wouldn't be able to acquire it in the near future.  In the interval he might look for upper part of a house in Piccadilly.  - which would be cheerful situation for Mrs Micawber; and where by throwing out a bow window, or carrying up the roof of another storey, or making some little alteration of that sort, they might live comfortably and with reputation for a few years.  There would always be a room for Traddles, and a knife and fork for me wherever his abode, or whatever his situation be.  We acknowledged his kindness, and he begged us to forgive his having launched into these business-like details.

Mrs Micawber tapping at the wall again, to know if we were ready for tea, broke up our conversation.  She made tea for us in an agreeable manner, and whenever I went near her, in handing about the tea-cups and bread and butter, she asked me, in a whisper, whether D. was fair or dark, or whether she was short or tall: or something of that kind; which I think I liked.  After tea, we discussed a variety of topics before the fire; and Mrs Micawber was good enough to sing us; in a small, thin, flat voice, the favourable ballads of the "Dashing white sergeant" and "Little Tafflin".  Mrs Micawber was famous for singing these songs when she was with her mama and papa.  Mr Micawber had told us that the first song impressed him when he saw her, the first time; and with the second song he resolved to win her or perish in that attempt.

It was between ten and eleven o'clock when Mrs Micawber rose to replace her cap in white-brown bag and replace it with a bonnet.  Mr Micawber took the opportunity of Traddles putting on her great-coat, to slip a letter into my hand, with a whispered request that I would read it at my leisure.  I also took the opportunity of holding a candle over the banisters to light them down when Mr Micawber was going first, leading Mrs Micawber, and Traddles was following with the cap, to detain Traddles for a moment on the top of the stairs 

'Traddles,' said I, 'Mr Micawber doesn't mean any harm, poor fellow, but, if I were you, I wouldn't lend him anything.

'My dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, smiling, I haven't got anything to lend.'

'You have got a name, you know,'  said I.

'Oh, you call THAT something to lend?'

'Certaily.'

'Oh!' said Traddles.  'Yes, to be sure!  I am very much obliged to you, Copperfield; but I am afraid I have lent him that already.' 

'For the bill, that is to be certain investment?' I inquired.

'No,' said Traddles.  Not for that one.  This is the first I have heard of that one.  I have been thinking that he will not likely propose that one on the way home.  Mine's another.'

'I hope there will be nothing wrong about it.' said I.  

'I hope not,' said Traddles.  'I should think not, though,  because he told me, only the other day, that it was provided for.  That was Mr Micawber's expression "provided for."

Mr Micawber looking up at this juncture to where we were standing, I had only time to repeat my caution.  Traddles thanked me and descended.  But I was much afraid, when I observed the good natured manner in which he went down with a cap in his hand, and gave Mrs Micawber his arm, that he would be carried into Money Market neck and heels.

I returned to my fireside, and was musing, half gravely and half laughing, the character of Micawber and the old relations between us, when I heard a quick steps ascending the stairs.  At first I thought it was Traddles coming back for something Mrs Micawber had left behind; but as the step approached, I knew it, and felt my heart beat high, and the blood rush to my face, for it was Steerforth.

The warning of Agnes was in my mind, but when he entered and stood before me, with his hands out, the darkness that had fallen on him changed to light, I felt ashamed of having doubted one I loved heartily.  I loved Agnes none the less.  I thought her same gentle angel of my life.  I reproached myself, not her, for having done him an injury, and looked for an opportunity to atone it.  

'Why, Daisy, old boy, dumbfounded!' laughed Steerfort, shaking his hand heartily, and throwing it gaily away.  'Have I detected you in another feast, you Sybrite!  These Doctors' Commons fellows are!'

'I was so surprised at once,' said I, giving him a cordial welcome, 'that I could hardly breath to greet you, Steerforth.'

'Well, the sight of me is good for sore eyes, as the Scotch say,' replied Steerforth, 'and so the sight of you, Daisy, in full bloom.  How are you Bacchanal?'

'I am very well,' said I; and not at all Bacchanalian tonight, though I confess to another party of three.' 

'All of whom I met in the street, talking loud in your praise,' returned Steerforth.  'Who is our friend in the tights?'

I gave him the best idea I could, of Mr Micawber, in few words. He laughed heartily at my feeble portrait of the gentleman, and said he was a man to know, and he must know him.  'But who do you suppose our other friend is?' said I in my turn.

'Heaven knows,' said Steerforth,' 'Not a bore I hope?  I thought he looked like a little one.'

'Traddles!' I was glad at his recognition of Traddles. 

'Who is he?,' asked Steerforth, in his careless way. 

'Don't you remember Traddles?  Traddles in our room at Salem House?'

'Oh!  That fellow!' said Steerforth, beating a lump of coal on the top of the fire, with the poker.  'Is he as soft as ever.  And where the deuce did you pick him up?'

I extolled Traddles in reply, as highly as I could; for I felt that Steerforth rather slighted him.  Steerforth dismissing the subject with a light nod, and a smile, and the remark that he would be glad to see the old fellow too, for he had always been an odd fish, inquired if I could give him anything to eat?  During most of this short dialogue, when he had not been speaking in wild vivacious manner, he had sat idly on beating on a lump of coal with the poker.  I observed that he did the same thing while I was getting out the remains of pigeon pie, and so forth.

'Why, Daisy, here is a supper for a king!' he exclaimed starting out his silence as a burst, and taking his seat at the table.  

'I shall do it justice, for I have come from Yarmouth.'  

'I thought you came from Oxford.'

'Not I,' said Steerforth.  'I have been seafaring - better employed.'

'Littimer was here today, to inquire for you,' I remarked, and I understood him that you were at Oxford, though, now I think of it, he certainly did not say so.' 

'Littimer is a greater fool than I thought of him, to have been inquiring for me at all,' said Steerforth jovially pouring out a glass of wine, and drinking to me.  'As to understand him, you are a cleverer fellow than most of us, Daisy, if you can do that.' 

'That's true indeed,' said I, moving my chair to the table.  'So you have been to Yarmouth, Steerforth!' interested to know all about it, 'have you been there long?' 

'No,' he returned.  'An escaped of a week or so.' 

'And how are they all?  Of course the little Emily is not married yet?' 

'Not yet.  Going to be, I believe - in so many weeks, or months, or something or other.  I have not seen much of them.  By the by'; he laid down his knife and fork, which he had been using with great deligence, and began feeling in his pockets; I have a letter for you.'

'From whom?'

'Why, from your old nurse,' he returned taking some papers from his pocket "J. Steerforth Esquire, Debtor to the Willing mind"; that is not it.  Patience, and we will find it presently.  Old what's- his name's in a bad way, and it's about that, I believe.'

'Barkis, do you mean?'

'Yes!' still feeling in his pockets and looking over their contents, 'it's all over with Barkis, I am afraid.  I saw a little apothecary there-surgeon or whatever he is, who brought your worship into the world.  He was mighty learned about the case, his opinion was, that the carrier was making his last journey rather fast.  Put your hand into the breast pocket of my great-coat on the chair yonder, and I think, you will find the letter.  Is it there?'

'Here it is.' said I.

'That's right.

It was from Peggotty, something less legible than usual, and brief.  It informed me of her husband's helpless state and hinted at his being 'a little nearer' than before, and consequently more difficult to manage for his own comfort.  It said nothing of her weariness and watching, and praised him highly.  It was written with plain, unaffected homely piety that I knew to be genuine, and ended with, 'my duty to my ever darling' - meaning myself.

While I deciphered it, Steerforth continued eating and drinking.

'It's a bad job,' he said, but the sun sets every day, and people die every minute, and we mustn't be scared by the common lot.  If we failed to hold our own, because that equal foot at all men's doors was heard knocking somewhere, every object in this world would slip from us.  No! Ride on!  Rough-shod if need be, smooth - shod, if that will do, but ride on!  Ride on over all obstacles and win the race!'

'And win what race?' said I.

'The race that one has started in,' said he.

As he paused, looking at me with his handsome head a little thrown back, and his glass raised in his hand, that though the freshness of the sea wind was on his face, and it was ruddy, there were traces in it, made since I last saw it, as if he had applied himself to some habitual strain of fervent energy which, when roused, was so passionately roused within him.  I had it in my thoughts to remonstrate with him upon his desperate way of pursuing any fancy that he took- such as buffeting rough seas, and braving of hard weather, for example - when my mind glanced off to the immediate subject of our conversation again, and pursued that instead.

'I tell you what, Steerforth,' said I, if your high spirits will listen to me -'

'They are potent spirits, and will do whatever you like,' he answered, moving from the table to fireside again.

'Then I tell you what, Steerforth.  I will go down and see my old nurse.  It is not that I can do her any good, or render her any real service; but she is so attached to me that my visit will have as much effect on her, as if I could do both.  She will take it so kindly that it will be a comfort and support to her.  It is no great effort to make, I am sure, to such as she has been to me.  Wouldn't you go a day's journey, if you were in place of me.  

He was thoughtful, and he sat considering a little before he answered, in a low voice, 'Well go.  You can do no harm.'

'You have just come back,' said I, 'and it would be in vain to ask you to go with me?'

'Quite,' he returned.   'I am for Highgate tonight.  I have not seen my mother this long time, and it lies upon my conscience, for it is something to be loved as she loves her prodigal son - Bah! Nonsense! - You mean to go tomorrow, I suppose?' he said holding me out at arms length, with hand on each of my shoulders.

'Yes, I think so.'

'Well, then, don't go till next day.  I wanted you to come and stay a few days with us.  Here I am on purpose to bid you, and you fly off to Yarmouth!'

'You are a nice fellow to talk of flying off, Steerforth, who are running always wild on some unknown expedition or other!'

He looked at me for a moment without speaking, and then rejoined, still holding me as before, and giving me a shake.

'Come! Say next day, and pass as much of tomorrow as you can with us!  Who knows when we may meet again, else?  Come! Say the next day!  I want you to stand between Rosa Dartle and me, and keep us asunder.' 

'Would you love each other too much, without me?'

'Yes, or hate,' laughed Steerforth; no matter which.  Come!  Say the next day!'

I said the next day; and he put on his great-coat and lighted his cigar, and set off to walk home.  Finding him in this intention, I put on my great-coat ( but did not light my cigar, having had enough of that) and walked with him as far as the open road: a dull road then, at night.  He was in great spirits all the way; and when we parted, and I looked after him going so gallantly and airily homeward, I thought of his saying, ' Ride on over all obstacles, and win the race!' and wished for the first time, that he had some worthy race to run.

I was undressing in my own room, when Mr Micawber's letter tumbled on the floor.  I broke the seal and read it.

SIR- I dare not say 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 calamity you may observe in him this day, but hope has sunk beneath 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 intoxication, employed by a broker.  That individual is in legal possession of the premises under a distress for rent.  His inventory includes not  only 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 Inner Temple.

If any drop of gloom were wanting in the following cup, which is now 'commended" ( in the language of an immortal writer) to the lips of the undersigned, it could be found in the fact, that a friendly acceptance granted to the undersigned by the before mentioned Mr Thomas Traddles for the sum of 231 4s 9 1/2d is overdue, and is NOT provided for.  Also, in the fact that 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 that much, it would be a work of supererogation to add that dust and ashes are forever scattered.

On the head of Wilkins Micawber.

Poor Traddles!  I knew enough of  Micawber by this time, to foresee that he might be expected to recover the blow; but my night's rest was sorely distressed by the thoughts of Traddles, and of the curate's daughter, who was one of ten, down in Devonshire, and who was such a dear girl, and who would wait for Traddles (ominous praise) until she was sixty, or any age that could be mentioned. 

END OF CHAPTER 28

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