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| 1 | One thing more, I had to do, before yielding myself to the shock of
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| 2 | these emotions. It was, to conceal what had occurred, from those
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| 3 | who were going away; and to dismiss them on their voyage in happy
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| 4 | ignorance. In this, no time was to be lost.
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| 5 | I took Mr. Micawber aside that same night, and confided to him the
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| 6 | task of standing between Mr. Peggotty and intelligence of the late
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| 7 | catastrophe. He zealously undertook to do so, and to intercept any
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| 8 | newspaper through which it might, without such precautions, reach
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| 9 | him.
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| 10 | 'If it penetrates to him, sir,' said Mr. Micawber, striking himself
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| 11 | on the breast, 'it shall first pass through this body!'
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| 12 | Mr. Micawber, I must observe, in his adaptation of himself to a new
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| 13 | state of society, had acquired a bold buccaneering air, not
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| 14 | absolutely lawless, but defensive and prompt. One might have
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| 15 | supposed him a child of the wilderness, long accustomed to live out
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| 16 | of the confines of civilization, and about to return to his native
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| 17 | wilds.
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| 18 | He had provided himself, among other things, with a complete suit
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| 19 | of oilskin, and a straw hat with a very low crown, pitched or
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| 20 | caulked on the outside. In this rough clothing, with a common
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| 21 | mariner's telescope under his arm, and a shrewd trick of casting up
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| 22 | his eye at the sky as looking out for dirty weather, he was far
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| 23 | more nautical, after his manner, than Mr. Peggotty. His whole
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| 24 | family, if I may so express it, were cleared for action. I found
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| 25 | Mrs. Micawber in the closest and most uncompromising of bonnets,
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| 26 | made fast under the chin; and in a shawl which tied her up (as I
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| 27 | had been tied up, when my aunt first received me) like a bundle,
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| 28 | and was secured behind at the waist, in a strong knot. Miss
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| 29 | Micawber I found made snug for stormy weather, in the same manner;
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| 30 | with nothing superfluous about her. Master Micawber was hardly
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| 31 | visible in a Guernsey shirt, and the shaggiest suit of slops I ever
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| 32 | saw; and the children were done up, like preserved meats, in
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| 33 | impervious cases. Both Mr. Micawber and his eldest son wore their
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| 34 | sleeves loosely turned back at the wrists, as being ready to lend
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| 35 | a hand in any direction, and to 'tumble up', or sing out, 'Yeo -
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| 36 | Heave - Yeo!' on the shortest notice.
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| 37 | Thus Traddles and I found them at nightfall, assembled on the
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| 38 | wooden steps, at that time known as Hungerford Stairs, watching the
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| 39 | departure of a boat with some of their property on board. I had
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| 40 | told Traddles of the terrible event, and it had greatly shocked
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| 41 | him; but there could be no doubt of the kindness of keeping it a
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| 42 | secret, and he had come to help me in this last service. It was
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| 43 | here that I took Mr. Micawber aside, and received his promise.
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| 44 | The Micawber family were lodged in a little, dirty, tumble-down
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| 45 | public-house, which in those days was close to the stairs, and
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| 46 | whose protruding wooden rooms overhung the river. The family, as
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| 47 | emigrants, being objects of some interest in and about Hungerford,
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| 48 | attracted so many beholders, that we were glad to take refuge in
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| 49 | their room. It was one of the wooden chambers upstairs, with the
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| 50 | tide flowing underneath. My aunt and Agnes were there, busily
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| 51 | making some little extra comforts, in the way of dress, for the
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| 52 | children. Peggotty was quietly assisting, with the old insensible
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| 53 | work-box, yard-measure, and bit of wax-candle before her, that had
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| 54 | now outlived so much.
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| 55 | It was not easy to answer her inquiries; still less to whisper Mr.
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| 56 | Peggotty, when Mr. Micawber brought him in, that I had given the
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| 57 | letter, and all was well. But I did both, and made them happy. If
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| 58 | I showed any trace of what I felt, my own sorrows were sufficient
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| 59 | to account for it.
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| 60 | 'And when does the ship sail, Mr. Micawber?' asked my aunt.
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| 61 | Mr. Micawber considered it necessary to prepare either my aunt or
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| 62 | his wife, by degrees, and said, sooner than he had expected
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| 63 | yesterday.
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| 64 | 'The boat brought you word, I suppose?' said my aunt.
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| 65 | 'It did, ma'am,' he returned.
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| 66 | 'Well?' said my aunt. 'And she sails -'
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| 67 | 'Madam,' he replied, 'I am informed that we must positively be on
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| 68 | board before seven tomorrow morning.'
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| 69 | 'Heyday!' said my aunt, 'that's soon. Is it a sea-going fact, Mr.
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| 70 | Peggotty?'
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| 71 | ''Tis so, ma'am. She'll drop down the river with that theer tide.
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| 72 | If Mas'r Davy and my sister comes aboard at Gravesen', arternoon o'
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| 73 | next day, they'll see the last on us.'
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| 74 | 'And that we shall do,' said I, 'be sure!'
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| 75 | 'Until then, and until we are at sea,' observed Mr. Micawber, with
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| 76 | a glance of intelligence at me, 'Mr. Peggotty and myself will
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| 77 | constantly keep a double look-out together, on our goods and
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| 78 | chattels. Emma, my love,' said Mr. Micawber, clearing his throat
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| 79 | in his magnificent way, 'my friend Mr. Thomas Traddles is so
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| 80 | obliging as to solicit, in my ear, that he should have the
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| 81 | privilege of ordering the ingredients necessary to the composition
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| 82 | of a moderate portion of that Beverage which is peculiarly
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| 83 | associated, in our minds, with the Roast Beef of Old England. I
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| 84 | allude to - in short, Punch. Under ordinary circumstances, I
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| 85 | should scruple to entreat the indulgence of Miss Trotwood and Miss
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| 86 | Wickfield, but-'
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| 87 | 'I can only say for myself,' said my aunt, 'that I will drink all
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| 88 | happiness and success to you, Mr. Micawber, with the utmost
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| 89 | pleasure.'
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| 90 | 'And I too!' said Agnes, with a smile.
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| 91 | Mr. Micawber immediately descended to the bar, where he appeared to
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| 92 | be quite at home; and in due time returned with a steaming jug. I
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| 93 | could not but observe that he had been peeling the lemons with his
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| 94 | own clasp-knife, which, as became the knife of a practical settler,
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| 95 | was about a foot long; and which he wiped, not wholly without
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| 96 | ostentation, on the sleeve of his coat. Mrs. Micawber and the two
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| 97 | elder members of the family I now found to be provided with similar
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| 98 | formidable instruments, while every child had its own wooden spoon
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| 99 | attached to its body by a strong line. In a similar anticipation
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| 100 | of life afloat, and in the Bush, Mr. Micawber, instead of helping
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| 101 | Mrs. Micawber and his eldest son and daughter to punch, in
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| 102 | wine-glasses, which he might easily have done, for there was a
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| 103 | shelf-full in the room, served it out to them in a series of
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| 104 | villainous little tin pots; and I never saw him enjoy anything so
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| 105 | much as drinking out of his own particular pint pot, and putting it
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| 106 | in his pocket at the close of the evening.
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| 107 | 'The luxuries of the old country,' said Mr. Micawber, with an
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| 108 | intense satisfaction in their renouncement, 'we abandon. The
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| 109 | denizens of the forest cannot, of course, expect to participate in
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| 110 | the refinements of the land of the Free.'
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| 111 | Here, a boy came in to say that Mr. Micawber was wanted downstairs.
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| 112 | 'I have a presentiment,' said Mrs. Micawber, setting down her tin
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| 113 | pot, 'that it is a member of my family!'
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| 114 | 'If so, my dear,' observed Mr. Micawber, with his usual suddenness
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| 115 | of warmth on that subject, 'as the member of your family - whoever
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| 116 | he, she, or it, may be - has kept us waiting for a considerable
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| 117 | period, perhaps the Member may now wait MY convenience.'
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| 118 | 'Micawber,' said his wife, in a low tone, 'at such a time as
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| 119 | this -'
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| 120 | '"It is not meet,"' said Mr. Micawber, rising, '"that every nice
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| 121 | offence should bear its comment!" Emma, I stand reproved.'
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| 122 | 'The loss, Micawber,' observed his wife, 'has been my family's, not
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| 123 | yours. If my family are at length sensible of the deprivation to
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| 124 | which their own conduct has, in the past, exposed them, and now
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| 125 | desire to extend the hand of fellowship, let it not be repulsed.'
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| 126 | 'My dear,' he returned, 'so be it!'
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| 127 | 'If not for their sakes; for mine, Micawber,' said his wife.
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| 128 | 'Emma,' he returned, 'that view of the question is, at such a
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| 129 | moment, irresistible. I cannot, even now, distinctly pledge myself
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| 130 | to fall upon your family's neck; but the member of your family, who
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| 131 | is now in attendance, shall have no genial warmth frozen by me.'
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| 132 | Mr. Micawber withdrew, and was absent some little time; in the
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| 133 | course of which Mrs. Micawber was not wholly free from an
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| 134 | apprehension that words might have arisen between him and the
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| 135 | Member. At length the same boy reappeared, and presented me with
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| 136 | a note written in pencil, and headed, in a legal manner, 'Heep v.
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| 137 | Micawber'. From this document, I learned that Mr. Micawber being
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| 138 | again arrested, 'Was in a final paroxysm of despair; and that he
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| 139 | begged me to send him his knife and pint pot, by bearer, as they
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| 140 | might prove serviceable during the brief remainder of his
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| 141 | existence, in jail. He also requested, as a last act of
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| 142 | friendship, that I would see his family to the Parish Workhouse,
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| 143 | and forget that such a Being ever lived.
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| 144 | Of course I answered this note by going down with the boy to pay
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| 145 | the money, where I found Mr. Micawber sitting in a corner, looking
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| 146 | darkly at the Sheriff 's Officer who had effected the capture. On
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| 147 | his release, he embraced me with the utmost fervour; and made an
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| 148 | entry of the transaction in his pocket-book - being very
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| 149 | particular, I recollect, about a halfpenny I inadvertently omitted
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| 150 | from my statement of the total.
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| 151 | This momentous pocket-book was a timely reminder to him of another
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| 152 | transaction. On our return to the room upstairs (where he
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| 153 | accounted for his absence by saying that it had been occasioned by
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| 154 | circumstances over which he had no control), he took out of it a
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| 155 | large sheet of paper, folded small, and quite covered with long
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| 156 | sums, carefully worked. From the glimpse I had of them, I should
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| 157 | say that I never saw such sums out of a school ciphering-book.
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| 158 | These, it seemed, were calculations of compound interest on what he
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| 159 | called 'the principal amount of forty-one, ten, eleven and a half',
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| 160 | for various periods. After a careful consideration of these, and
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| 161 | an elaborate estimate of his resources, he had come to the
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| 162 | conclusion to select that sum which represented the amount with
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| 163 | compound interest to two years, fifteen calendar months, and
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| 164 | fourteen days, from that date. For this he had drawn a
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| 165 | note-of-hand with great neatness, which he handed over to Traddles
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| 166 | on the spot, a discharge of his debt in full (as between man and
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| 167 | man), with many acknowledgements.
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| 168 | 'I have still a presentiment,' said Mrs. Micawber, pensively
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| 169 | shaking her head, 'that my family will appear on board, before we
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| 170 | finally depart.'
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| 171 | Mr. Micawber evidently had his presentiment on the subject too, but
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| 172 | he put it in his tin pot and swallowed it.
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| 173 | 'If you have any opportunity of sending letters home, on your
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| 174 | passage, Mrs. Micawber,' said my aunt, 'you must let us hear from
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| 175 | you, you know.'
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| 176 | 'My dear Miss Trotwood,' she replied, 'I shall only be too happy to
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| 177 | think that anyone expects to hear from us. I shall not fail to
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| 178 | correspond. Mr. Copperfield, I trust, as an old and familiar
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| 179 | friend, will not object to receive occasional intelligence,
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| 180 | himself, from one who knew him when the twins were yet
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| 181 | unconscious?'
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| 182 | I said that I should hope to hear, whenever she had an opportunity
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| 183 | of writing.
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| 184 | 'Please Heaven, there will be many such opportunities,' said Mr.
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| 185 | Micawber. 'The ocean, in these times, is a perfect fleet of ships;
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| 186 | and we can hardly fail to encounter many, in running over. It is
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| 187 | merely crossing,' said Mr. Micawber, trifling with his eye-glass,
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| 188 | 'merely crossing. The distance is quite imaginary.'
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| 189 | I think, now, how odd it was, but how wonderfully like Mr.
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| 190 | Micawber, that, when he went from London to Canterbury, he should
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| 191 | have talked as if he were going to the farthest limits of the
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| 192 | earth; and, when he went from England to Australia, as if he were
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| 193 | going for a little trip across the channel.
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| 194 | 'On the voyage, I shall endeavour,' said Mr. Micawber,
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| 195 | 'occasionally to spin them a yarn; and the melody of my son Wilkins
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| 196 | will, I trust, be acceptable at the galley-fire. When Mrs.
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| 197 | Micawber has her sea-legs on - an expression in which I hope there
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| 198 | is no conventional impropriety - she will give them, I dare say,
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| 199 | "Little Tafflin". Porpoises and dolphins, I believe, will be
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| 200 | frequently observed athwart our Bows; and, either on the starboard
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| 201 | or the larboard quarter, objects of interest will be continually
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| 202 | descried. In short,' said Mr. Micawber, with the old genteel air,
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| 203 | 'the probability is, all will be found so exciting, alow and aloft,
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| 204 | that when the lookout, stationed in the main-top, cries Land-oh! we
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| 205 | shall be very considerably astonished!'
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| 206 | With that he flourished off the contents of his little tin pot, as
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| 207 | if he had made the voyage, and had passed a first-class examination
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| 208 | before the highest naval authorities.
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| 209 | ' What I chiefly hope, my dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs.
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| 210 | Micawber, 'is, that in some branches of our family we may live
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| 211 | again in the old country. Do not frown, Micawber! I do not now
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| 212 | refer to my own family, but to our children's children. However
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| 213 | vigorous the sapling,' said Mrs. Micawber, shaking her head, 'I
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| 214 | cannot forget the parent-tree; and when our race attains to
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| 215 | eminence and fortune, I own I should wish that fortune to flow into
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| 216 | the coffers of Britannia.'
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| 217 | 'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber, 'Britannia must take her chance. I
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| 218 | am bound to say that she has never done much for me, and that I
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| 219 | have no particular wish upon the subject.'
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| 220 | 'Micawber,' returned Mrs. Micawber, 'there, you are wrong. You are
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| 221 | going out, Micawber, to this distant clime, to strengthen, not to
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| 222 | weaken, the connexion between yourself and Albion.'
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| 223 | 'The connexion in question, my love,' rejoined Mr. Micawber, 'has
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| 224 | not laid me, I repeat, under that load of personal obligation, that
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| 225 | I am at all sensitive as to the formation of another connexion.'
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| 226 | 'Micawber,' returned Mrs. Micawber. 'There, I again say, you are
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| 227 | wrong. You do not know your power, Micawber. It is that which
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| 228 | will strengthen, even in this step you are about to take, the
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| 229 | connexion between yourself and Albion.'
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| 230 | Mr. Micawber sat in his elbow-chair, with his eyebrows raised; half
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| 231 | receiving and half repudiating Mrs. Micawber's views as they were
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| 232 | stated, but very sensible of their foresight.
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| 233 | 'My dear Mr. Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'I wish Mr. Micawber
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| 234 | to feel his position. It appears to me highly important that Mr.
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| 235 | Micawber should, from the hour of his embarkation, feel his
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| 236 | position. Your old knowledge of me, my dear Mr. Copperfield, will
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| 237 | have told you that I have not the sanguine disposition of Mr.
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| 238 | Micawber. My disposition is, if I may say so, eminently practical.
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| 239 | I know that this is a long voyage. I know that it will involve
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| 240 | many privations and inconveniences. I cannot shut my eyes to those
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| 241 | facts. But I also know what Mr. Micawber is. I know the latent
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| 242 | power of Mr. Micawber. And therefore I consider it vitally
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| 243 | important that Mr. Micawber should feel his position.'
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| 244 | 'My love,' he observed, 'perhaps you will allow me to remark that
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| 245 | it is barely possible that I DO feel my position at the present
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| 246 | moment.'
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| 247 | 'I think not, Micawber,' she rejoined. 'Not fully. My dear Mr.
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| 248 | Copperfield, Mr. Micawber's is not a common case. Mr. Micawber is
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| 249 | going to a distant country expressly in order that he may be fully
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| 250 | understood and appreciated for the first time. I wish Mr. Micawber
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| 251 | to take his stand upon that vessel's prow, and firmly say, "This
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| 252 | country I am come to conquer! Have you honours? Have you riches?
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| 253 | Have you posts of profitable pecuniary emolument? Let them be
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| 254 | brought forward. They are mine!"'
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| 255 | Mr. Micawber, glancing at us all, seemed to think there was a good
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| 256 | deal in this idea.
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| 257 | 'I wish Mr. Micawber, if I make myself understood,' said Mrs.
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| 258 | Micawber, in her argumentative tone, 'to be the Caesar of his own
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| 259 | fortunes. That, my dear Mr. Copperfield, appears to me to be his
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| 260 | true position. From the first moment of this voyage, I wish Mr.
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| 261 | Micawber to stand upon that vessel's prow and say, "Enough of
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| 262 | delay: enough of disappointment: enough of limited means. That was
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| 263 | in the old country. This is the new. Produce your reparation.
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| 264 | Bring it forward!"'
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| 265 | Mr. Micawber folded his arms in a resolute manner, as if he were
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| 266 | then stationed on the figure-head.
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| 267 | 'And doing that,' said Mrs. Micawber, '- feeling his position - am
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| 268 | I not right in saying that Mr. Micawber will strengthen, and not
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| 269 | weaken, his connexion with Britain? An important public character
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| 270 | arising in that hemisphere, shall I be told that its influence will
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| 271 | not be felt at home? Can I be so weak as to imagine that Mr.
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| 272 | Micawber, wielding the rod of talent and of power in Australia,
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| 273 | will be nothing in England? I am but a woman; but I should be
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| 274 | unworthy of myself and of my papa, if I were guilty of such absurd
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| 275 | weakness.'
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| 276 | Mrs. Micawber's conviction that her arguments were unanswerable,
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| 277 | gave a moral elevation to her tone which I think I had never heard
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| 278 | in it before.
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| 279 | 'And therefore it is,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'that I the more wish,
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| 280 | that, at a future period, we may live again on the parent soil.
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| 281 | Mr. Micawber may be - I cannot disguise from myself that the
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| 282 | probability is, Mr. Micawber will be - a page of History; and he
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| 283 | ought then to be represented in the country which gave him birth,
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| 284 | and did NOT give him employment!'
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| 285 | 'My love,' observed Mr. Micawber, 'it is impossible for me not to
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| 286 | be touched by your affection. I am always willing to defer to your
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| 287 | good sense. What will be - will be. Heaven forbid that I should
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| 288 | grudge my native country any portion of the wealth that may be
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| 289 | accumulated by our descendants!'
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| 290 | 'That's well,' said my aunt, nodding towards Mr. Peggotty, 'and I
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| 291 | drink my love to you all, and every blessing and success attend
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| 292 | you!'
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| 293 | Mr. Peggotty put down the two children he had been nursing, one on
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| 294 | each knee, to join Mr. and Mrs. Micawber in drinking to all of us
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| 295 | in return; and when he and the Micawbers cordially shook hands as
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| 296 | comrades, and his brown face brightened with a smile, I felt that
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| 297 | he would make his way, establish a good name, and be beloved, go
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| 298 | where he would.
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| 299 | Even the children were instructed, each to dip a wooden spoon into
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| 300 | Mr. Micawber's pot, and pledge us in its contents. When this was
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| 301 | done, my aunt and Agnes rose, and parted from the emigrants. It
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| 302 | was a sorrowful farewell. They were all crying; the children hung
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| 303 | about Agnes to the last; and we left poor Mrs. Micawber in a very
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| 304 | distressed condition, sobbing and weeping by a dim candle, that
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| 305 | must have made the room look, from the river, like a miserable
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| 306 | light-house.
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| 307 | I went down again next morning to see that they were away. They
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| 308 | had departed, in a boat, as early as five o'clock. It was a
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| 309 | wonderful instance to me of the gap such partings make, that
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| 310 | although my association of them with the tumble-down public-house
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| 311 | and the wooden stairs dated only from last night, both seemed
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| 312 | dreary and deserted, now that they were gone.
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| 313 | In the afternoon of the next day, my old nurse and I went down to
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| 314 | Gravesend. We found the ship in the river, surrounded by a crowd
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| 315 | of boats; a favourable wind blowing; the signal for sailing at her
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| 316 | mast-head. I hired a boat directly, and we put off to her; and
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| 317 | getting through the little vortex of confusion of which she was the
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| 318 | centre, went on board.
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| 319 | Mr. Peggotty was waiting for us on deck. He told me that Mr.
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| 320 | Micawber had just now been arrested again (and for the last time)
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| 321 | at the suit of Heep, and that, in compliance with a request I had
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| 322 | made to him, he had paid the money, which I repaid him. He then
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| 323 | took us down between decks; and there, any lingering fears I had of
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| 324 | his having heard any rumours of what had happened, were dispelled
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| 325 | by Mr. Micawber's coming out of the gloom, taking his arm with an
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| 326 | air of friendship and protection, and telling me that they had
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| 327 | scarcely been asunder for a moment, since the night before last.
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| 328 | It was such a strange scene to me, and so confined and dark, that,
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| 329 | at first, I could make out hardly anything; but, by degrees, it
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| 330 | cleared, as my eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, and I
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| 331 | seemed to stand in a picture by OSTADE. Among the great beams,
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| 332 | bulks, and ringbolts of the ship, and the emigrant-berths, and
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| 333 | chests, and bundles, and barrels, and heaps of miscellaneous
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| 334 | baggage -'lighted up, here and there, by dangling lanterns; and
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| 335 | elsewhere by the yellow daylight straying down a windsail or a
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| 336 | hatchway - were crowded groups of people, making new friendships,
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| 337 | taking leave of one another, talking, laughing, crying, eating and
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| 338 | drinking; some, already settled down into the possession of their
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| 339 | few feet of space, with their little households arranged, and tiny
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| 340 | children established on stools, or in dwarf elbow-chairs; others,
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| 341 | despairing of a resting-place, and wandering disconsolately. From
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| 342 | babies who had but a week or two of life behind them, to crooked
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| 343 | old men and women who seemed to have but a week or two of life
|
| 344 | before them; and from ploughmen bodily carrying out soil of England
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| 345 | on their boots, to smiths taking away samples of its soot and smoke
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| 346 | upon their skins; every age and occupation appeared to be crammed
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| 347 | into the narrow compass of the 'tween decks.
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| 348 | As my eye glanced round this place, I thought I saw sitting, by an
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| 349 | open port, with one of the Micawber children near her, a figure
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| 350 | like Emily's; it first attracted my attention, by another figure
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| 351 | parting from it with a kiss; and as it glided calmly away through
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| 352 | the disorder, reminding me of - Agnes! But in the rapid motion and
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| 353 | confusion, and in the unsettlement of my own thoughts, I lost it
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| 354 | again; and only knew that the time was come when all visitors were
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| 355 | being warned to leave the ship; that my nurse was crying on a chest
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| 356 | beside me; and that Mrs. Gummidge, assisted by some younger
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| 357 | stooping woman in black, was busily arranging Mr. Peggotty's goods.
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| 358 | 'Is there any last wured, Mas'r Davy?' said he. 'Is there any one
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| 359 | forgotten thing afore we parts?'
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| 360 | 'One thing!' said I. 'Martha!'
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| 361 | He touched the younger woman I have mentioned on the shoulder, and
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| 362 | Martha stood before me.
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| 363 | 'Heaven bless you, you good man!' cried I. 'You take her with
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| 364 | you!'
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| 365 | She answered for him, with a burst of tears. I could speak no more
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| 366 | at that time, but I wrung his hand; and if ever I have loved and
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| 367 | honoured any man, I loved and honoured that man in my soul.
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| 368 | The ship was clearing fast of strangers. The greatest trial that
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| 369 | I had, remained. I told him what the noble spirit that was gone,
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| 370 | had given me in charge to say at parting. It moved him deeply.
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| 371 | But when he charged me, in return, with many messages of affection
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| 372 | and regret for those deaf ears, he moved me more.
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| 373 | The time was come. I embraced him, took my weeping nurse upon my
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| 374 | arm, and hurried away. On deck, I took leave of poor Mrs.
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| 375 | Micawber. She was looking distractedly about for her family, even
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| 376 | then; and her last words to me were, that she never would desert
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| 377 | Mr. Micawber.
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| 378 | We went over the side into our boat, and lay at a little distance,
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| 379 | to see the ship wafted on her course. It was then calm, radiant
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| 380 | sunset. She lay between us, and the red light; and every taper
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| 381 | line and spar was visible against the glow. A sight at once so
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| 382 | beautiful, so mournful, and so hopeful, as the glorious ship,
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| 383 | lying, still, on the flushed water, with all the life on board her
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| 384 | crowded at the bulwarks, and there clustering, for a moment,
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| 385 | bare-headed and silent, I never saw.
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| 386 | Silent, only for a moment. As the sails rose to the wind, and the
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| 387 | ship began to move, there broke from all the boats three resounding
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| 388 | cheers, which those on board took up, and echoed back, and which
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| 389 | were echoed and re-echoed. My heart burst out when I heard the
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| 390 | sound, and beheld the waving of the hats and handkerchiefs - and
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| 391 | then I saw her!
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| 392 | Then I saw her, at her uncle's side, and trembling on his shoulder.
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| 393 | He pointed to us with an eager hand; and she saw us, and waved her
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| 394 | last good-bye to me. Aye, Emily, beautiful and drooping, cling to
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| 395 | him with the utmost trust of thy bruised heart; for he has clung to
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| 396 | thee, with all the might of his great love!
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| 397 | Surrounded by the rosy light, and standing high upon the deck,
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| 398 | apart together, she clinging to him, and he holding her, they
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| 399 | solemnly passed away. The night had fallen on the Kentish hills
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| 400 | when we were rowed ashore - and fallen darkly upon me.
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