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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 440/820
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That
perhaps
it
was
a
little
indecent
that
the
principal
registrar
of
all
,
whose
duty
it
was
to
find
the
public
,
constantly
resorting
to
this
place
,
all
needful
accommodation
,
should
be
an
enormous
sinecurist
in
virtue
of
that
post
(
and
might
be
,
besides
,
a
clergyman
,
a
pluralist
,
the
holder
of
a
staff
in
a
cathedral
,
and
what
not
)
,
—
while
the
public
was
put
to
the
inconvenience
of
which
we
had
a
specimen
every
afternoon
when
the
office
was
busy
,
and
which
we
knew
to
be
quite
monstrous
.
That
,
perhaps
,
in
short
,
this
Prerogative
Office
of
the
diocese
of
Canterbury
was
altogether
such
a
pestilent
job
,
and
such
a
pernicious
absurdity
,
that
but
for
its
being
squeezed
away
in
a
corner
of
St
.
Paul
’
s
Churchyard
,
which
few
people
knew
,
it
must
have
been
turned
completely
inside
out
,
and
upside
down
,
long
ago
.
Mr
.
Spenlow
smiled
as
I
became
modestly
warm
on
the
subject
,
and
then
argued
this
question
with
me
as
he
had
argued
the
other
.
He
said
,
what
was
it
after
all
?
It
was
a
question
of
feeling
.
If
the
public
felt
that
their
wills
were
in
safe
keeping
,
and
took
it
for
granted
that
the
office
was
not
to
be
made
better
,
who
was
the
worse
for
it
?
Nobody
.
Who
was
the
better
for
it
?
All
the
Sinecurists
.
Very
well
.
Then
the
good
predominated
.
It
might
not
be
a
perfect
system
;
nothing
was
perfect
;
but
what
he
objected
to
,
was
,
the
insertion
of
the
wedge
.
Under
the
Prerogative
Office
,
the
country
had
been
glorious
.
Insert
the
wedge
into
the
Prerogative
Office
,
and
the
country
would
cease
to
be
glorious
.
He
considered
it
the
principle
of
a
gentleman
to
take
things
as
he
found
them
;
and
he
had
no
doubt
the
Prerogative
Office
would
last
our
time
.
I
deferred
to
his
opinion
,
though
I
had
great
doubts
of
it
myself
.
I
find
he
was
right
,
however
;
for
it
has
not
only
lasted
to
the
present
moment
,
but
has
done
so
in
the
teeth
of
a
great
parliamentary
report
made
(
not
too
willingly
)
eighteen
years
ago
,
when
all
these
objections
of
mine
were
set
forth
in
detail
,
and
when
the
existing
stowage
for
wills
was
described
as
equal
to
the
accumulation
of
only
two
years
and
a
half
more
.
What
they
have
done
with
them
since
;
whether
they
have
lost
many
,
or
whether
they
sell
any
,
now
and
then
,
to
the
butter
shops
;
I
don
’
t
know
.
I
am
glad
mine
is
not
there
,
and
I
hope
it
may
not
go
there
,
yet
awhile
.
I
have
set
all
this
down
,
in
my
present
blissful
chapter
,
because
here
it
comes
into
its
natural
place
.
Mr
.
Spenlow
and
I
falling
into
this
conversation
,
prolonged
it
and
our
saunter
to
and
fro
,
until
we
diverged
into
general
topics
.
And
so
it
came
about
,
in
the
end
,
that
Mr
.
Spenlow
told
me
this
day
week
was
Dora
’
s
birthday
,
and
he
would
be
glad
if
I
would
come
down
and
join
a
little
picnic
on
the
occasion
.
I
went
out
of
my
senses
immediately
;
became
a
mere
driveller
next
day
,
on
receipt
of
a
little
lace
-
edged
sheet
of
note
-
paper
,
‘
Favoured
by
papa
.
To
remind
’
;
and
passed
the
intervening
period
in
a
state
of
dotage
.
I
think
I
committed
every
possible
absurdity
in
the
way
of
preparation
for
this
blessed
event
.
I
turn
hot
when
I
remember
the
cravat
I
bought
.
My
boots
might
be
placed
in
any
collection
of
instruments
of
torture
.
I
provided
,
and
sent
down
by
the
Norwood
coach
the
night
before
,
a
delicate
little
hamper
,
amounting
in
itself
,
I
thought
,
almost
to
a
declaration
.
There
were
crackers
in
it
with
the
tenderest
mottoes
that
could
be
got
for
money
.
At
six
in
the
morning
,
I
was
in
Covent
Garden
Market
,
buying
a
bouquet
for
Dora
.
At
ten
I
was
on
horseback
(
I
hired
a
gallant
grey
,
for
the
occasion
)
,
with
the
bouquet
in
my
hat
,
to
keep
it
fresh
,
trotting
down
to
Norwood
.
I
suppose
that
when
I
saw
Dora
in
the
garden
and
pretended
not
to
see
her
,
and
rode
past
the
house
pretending
to
be
anxiously
looking
for
it
,
I
committed
two
small
fooleries
which
other
young
gentlemen
in
my
circumstances
might
have
committed
—
because
they
came
so
very
natural
to
me
.
But
oh
!
when
I
DID
find
the
house
,
and
DID
dismount
at
the
garden
-
gate
,
and
drag
those
stony
-
hearted
boots
across
the
lawn
to
Dora
sitting
on
a
garden
-
seat
under
a
lilac
tree
,
what
a
spectacle
she
was
,
upon
that
beautiful
morning
,
among
the
butterflies
,
in
a
white
chip
bonnet
and
a
dress
of
celestial
blue
!
There
was
a
young
lady
with
her
—
comparatively
stricken
in
years
—
almost
twenty
,
I
should
say
.
Her
name
was
Miss
Mills
.
and
Dora
called
her
Julia
.
She
was
the
bosom
friend
of
Dora
.
Happy
Miss
Mills
!
Jip
was
there
,
and
Jip
WOULD
bark
at
me
again
.
When
I
presented
my
bouquet
,
he
gnashed
his
teeth
with
jealousy
.
Well
he
might
.
If
he
had
the
least
idea
how
I
adored
his
mistress
,
well
he
might
!
‘
Oh
,
thank
you
,
Mr
.
Copperfield
!
What
dear
flowers
!
’
said
Dora
.
