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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 241/820
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We
had
a
beautiful
little
dinner
.
Quite
an
elegant
dish
of
fish
;
the
kidney
-
end
of
a
loin
of
veal
,
roasted
;
fried
sausage
-
meat
;
a
partridge
,
and
a
pudding
.
There
was
wine
,
and
there
was
strong
ale
;
and
after
dinner
Mrs
.
Micawber
made
us
a
bowl
of
hot
punch
with
her
own
hands
.
Mr
.
Micawber
was
uncommonly
convivial
.
I
never
saw
him
such
good
company
.
He
made
his
face
shine
with
the
punch
,
so
that
it
looked
as
if
it
had
been
varnished
all
over
.
He
got
cheerfully
sentimental
about
the
town
,
and
proposed
success
to
it
;
observing
that
Mrs
.
Micawber
and
himself
had
been
made
extremely
snug
and
comfortable
there
and
that
he
never
should
forget
the
agreeable
hours
they
had
passed
in
Canterbury
.
He
proposed
me
afterwards
;
and
he
,
and
Mrs
.
Micawber
,
and
I
,
took
a
review
of
our
past
acquaintance
,
in
the
course
of
which
we
sold
the
property
all
over
again
.
Then
I
proposed
Mrs
.
Micawber
:
or
,
at
least
,
said
,
modestly
,
‘
If
you
’
ll
allow
me
,
Mrs
.
Micawber
,
I
shall
now
have
the
pleasure
of
drinking
your
health
,
ma
’
am
.
’
On
which
Mr
.
Micawber
delivered
an
eulogium
on
Mrs
.
Micawber
’
s
character
,
and
said
she
had
ever
been
his
guide
,
philosopher
,
and
friend
,
and
that
he
would
recommend
me
,
when
I
came
to
a
marrying
time
of
life
,
to
marry
such
another
woman
,
if
such
another
woman
could
be
found
.
As
the
punch
disappeared
,
Mr
.
Micawber
became
still
more
friendly
and
convivial
.
Mrs
.
Micawber
’
s
spirits
becoming
elevated
,
too
,
we
sang
‘
Auld
Lang
Syne
’
.
When
we
came
to
‘
Here
’
s
a
hand
,
my
trusty
frere
’
,
we
all
joined
hands
round
the
table
;
and
when
we
declared
we
would
‘
take
a
right
gude
Willie
Waught
’
,
and
hadn
’
t
the
least
idea
what
it
meant
,
we
were
really
affected
.
In
a
word
,
I
never
saw
anybody
so
thoroughly
jovial
as
Mr
.
Micawber
was
,
down
to
the
very
last
moment
of
the
evening
,
when
I
took
a
hearty
farewell
of
himself
and
his
amiable
wife
.
Consequently
,
I
was
not
prepared
,
at
seven
o
’
clock
next
morning
,
to
receive
the
following
communication
,
dated
half
past
nine
in
the
evening
;
a
quarter
of
an
hour
after
I
had
left
him
:
—
‘
My
DEAR
YOUNG
FRIEND
,
‘
The
die
is
cast
—
all
is
over
.
Hiding
the
ravages
of
care
with
a
sickly
mask
of
mirth
,
I
have
not
informed
you
,
this
evening
,
that
there
is
no
hope
of
the
remittance
!
Under
these
circumstances
,
alike
humiliating
to
endure
,
humiliating
to
contemplate
,
and
humiliating
to
relate
,
I
have
discharged
the
pecuniary
liability
contracted
at
this
establishment
,
by
giving
a
note
of
hand
,
made
payable
fourteen
days
after
date
,
at
my
residence
,
Pentonville
,
London
.
When
it
becomes
due
,
it
will
not
be
taken
up
The
result
is
destruction
.
The
bolt
is
impending
,
and
the
tree
must
fall
.
‘
Let
the
wretched
man
who
now
addresses
you
,
my
dear
Copperfield
,
be
a
beacon
to
you
through
life
.
He
writes
with
that
intention
,
and
in
that
hope
.
If
he
could
think
himself
of
so
much
use
,
one
gleam
of
day
might
,
by
possibility
,
penetrate
into
the
cheerless
dungeon
of
his
remaining
existence
—
though
his
longevity
is
,
at
present
(
to
say
the
least
of
it
)
,
extremely
problematical
.
‘
This
is
the
last
communication
,
my
dear
Copperfield
,
you
will
ever
receive
