David Copperfield, Charles Dickens [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

of times, ‘but, uncle,’ she says to me, ‘that’s gone forever.’ Cheerful along with me; retired when others is by; fond of going any distance fur to teach a child, or fur to tend a sick person, or fur to do some kindness tow’rds a young girl’s wedding (and she’s done a many, but has never seen one); fondly loving of her uncle; patient; liked by young and old; sowt out by all that has any trouble. That’s Em’ly!”

He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh looked up from the fire.

“Is Martha with you yet?” I asked.

“Martha,” he replied, “got married, Mas’r Davy, in the second year. A young man, a farm-labourer, as come by us on his way to market with his mas’r’s drays⁠—a journey of over five hundred mile, theer and back⁠—made offers fur to take her fur his wife (wives is very scarce theer), and then to set up fur their two selves in the Bush. She spoke to me fur to tell him her trew story. I did. They was married, and they live fower hundred mile away from any voices but their own and the singing birds.”

“Mrs. Gummidge?” I suggested.

It was a pleasant key to touch, for Mr. Peggotty suddenly burst into a roar of laughter, and rubbed his hands up and down his legs, as he had been accustomed to do when he enjoyed himself in the long-shipwrecked boat.

“Would you believe it!” he said. “Why, someun even made offer fur to marry her! If a ship’s cook that was turning settler, Mas’r Davy, didn’t make offers fur to marry Missis Gummidge, I’m gormed⁠—and I can’t say no fairer than that!”

I never saw Agnes laugh so. This sudden ecstasy on the part of Mr. Peggotty was so delightful to her, that she could not leave off laughing; and the more she laughed the more she made me laugh, and the greater Mr. Peggotty’s ecstasy became, and the more he rubbed his legs.

“And what did Mrs. Gummidge say?” I asked, when I was grave enough.

“If you’ll believe me,” returned Mr. Peggotty, “Missis Gummidge, ’stead of saying ‘thank you, I’m much obleeged to you, I ain’t a-going fur to change my condition at my time of life,’ up’d with a bucket as was standing by, and laid it over that theer ship’s cook’s head till he sung out fur help, and I went in and reskied of him.”

Mr. Peggotty burst into a great roar of laughter, and Agnes and I both kept him company.

“But I must say this, for the good creetur,” he resumed, wiping his face, when we were quite exhausted; “she has been all she said she’d be to us, and more. She’s the willingest, the trewest, the honestest-helping woman, Mas’r Davy, as ever draw’d the breath of life. I have never know’d her to be lone and lorn, for a single minute, not even when the colony was all afore us, and we was new to it. And thinking of the old ’un is a thing she never done, I do assure you, since she left England!”

“Now, last, not least, Mr. Micawber,” said I. “He has paid off every obligation he incurred here⁠—even to Traddles’s bill, you remember my dear Agnes⁠—and therefore we may take it for granted that he is doing well. But what is the latest news of him?”

Mr. Peggotty, with a smile, put his hand in his breast pocket, and produced a flat-folded, paper parcel, from which he took out, with much care, a little odd-looking newspaper.

“You are to understan’, Mas’r Davy,” said he, “as we have left the Bush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to Port Middlebay Harbour, wheer theer’s what we call a town.”

“Mr. Micawber was in the Bush near you?” said I.

“Bless you, yes,” said Mr. Peggotty, “and turned to with a will. I never wish to meet a better gen’l’man for turning to with a will. I’ve seen that theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun, Mas’r Davy, till I a’most thowt it would have melted away. And now he’s a Magistrate.”

“A Magistrate, eh?” said I.

Mr. Peggotty pointed to a certain paragraph in the newspaper, where I read aloud as follows, from the Port Middlebay Times:

“The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and townsman, Wilkins Micawber, Esquire, Port Middlebay District Magistrate, came off yesterday in the large room of the Hotel, which was crowded to suffocation. It is estimated that not fewer than forty-seven persons must have been accommodated with dinner at one time, exclusive of the company in the passage and on the stairs. The beauty, fashion, and exclusiveness of Port Middlebay, flocked to do honour to one so deservedly esteemed, so highly talented, and so widely popular. Doctor Mell (of Colonial Salem-House Grammar School, Port Middlebay) presided, and on his right sat the distinguished guest. After the removal of the cloth, and the singing of ‘Non Nobis’ (beautifully executed, and in which we were at no loss to distinguish the bell-like notes of that gifted amateur, Wilkins Micawber, Esquire, Junior), the usual loyal and patriotic toasts were severally given and rapturously received. Doctor Mell, in a speech replete with feeling, then proposed, ‘Our distinguished guest, the ornament of our town. May he never leave us but to better himself, and may his success among us be such as to render his bettering himself impossible!’ The cheering with which the toast was received defies description. Again and again it rose and fell, like the waves of ocean. At length all was hushed, and Wilkins Micawber, Esquire, presented himself to return thanks. Far be it from us, in the present comparatively imperfect state of the resources of our establishment, to endeavour to follow our distinguished townsman through the smoothly-flowing periods of his polished and highly-ornate address! Suffice it to observe, that it was a masterpiece of eloquence; and that those passages in which he more particularly traced his own successful career to its source, and warned the younger portion of his auditory from the shoals