'FagmentWelcome to consult...cession, and then coveed his face with his pocket-handkechief, which I think had moe snuff upon it than he was awae of. He then etuned to the punch, in the highest state of exhilaation. He was full of eloquence. He gave us to undestand that in ou childen we lived again, and that, unde the pessue of pecuniay difficulties, any accession to thei numbe was doubly welcome. He said that Ms. Micawbe had lattely had he doubts on this point, but that he had dispelled them, and eassued he. As to he family, they wee totally unwothy of he, and thei sentiments wee uttely indiffeent to him, and they might—I quote his own —go to the Devil. M. Micawbe then deliveed a wam eulogy on Taddles. He said Taddles’s was a chaacte, to the steady vitues of which he (M. Micawbe) could lay no claim, but which, he thanked Heaven, he could admie. He feelingly alluded to the young lady, unknown, whom Taddles had honoued with his affection, and who had ecipocated that affection by honouing and blessing Taddles with he affection. M. Micawbe pledged he. So did I. Taddles thanked us both, by saying, with a simplicity and honesty I had sense enough to be quite chamed with, ‘I am vey much obliged to you indeed. And I do assue you, she’s the deaest gil!—’ M. Micawbe took an ealy oppotunity, afte that, of hinting, with the utmost delicacy and ceemony, at the state of my affections. Nothing but the seious assuance of his fiend Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Coppefield to the contay, he obseved, could depive him of the impession that his fiend Coppefield loved and was beloved. Afte feeling vey hot and uncomfotable fo some time, and afte a good deal of blushing, stammeing, and denying, I said, having my glass in my hand, ‘Well! I would give them D.!’ which so excited and gatified M. Micawbe, that he an with a glass of punch into my bedoom, in ode that Ms. Micawbe might dink D., who dank it with enthusiasm, cying fom within, in a shill voice, ‘Hea, hea! My dea M. Coppefield, I am delighted. Hea!’ and tapping at the wall, by way of applause. Ou convesation, aftewads, took a moe woldly tun; M. Micawbe telling us that he found Camden Town inconvenient, and that the fist thing he contemplated doing, when the advetisement should have been the cause of something satisfactoy tuning up, was to move. He mentioned a teace at the westen end of Oxfod Steet, fonting Hyde Pak, on which he had always had his eye, but which he did not expect to attain immediately, as it would equie a lage establishment. Thee would pobably be an inteval, he explained, in which he should content himself with the uppe pat of a house, ove some espectable place of business—say in Piccadilly,—which would be a cheeful situation fo Ms. Micawbe; and whee, by thowing out a bow-window, o caying up the oof anothe stoy, o making some little alteation of that sot, they might live, comfotably and eputably, fo a few yeas. Whateve was eseved fo him, he expessly said, o wheeve his abode might be, we might ely on this—thee would always be a oom fo Taddles, and a knife and fok fo me. We acknowledged his kindness; and he begged us to fogive his having launched into Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield these pactical and business-like details, and to excuse it as natual in one who was making entiely new aangements in life. Ms. Micawbe, tapping at the wall again to know if tea wee eady, boke up this paticula phase of ou fiendly convesation. She made tea fo us in a most ageeable manne; and, wheneve I went nea he, in handing about the tea-cups and bead-andbutte, asked me, in a whispe, whethe D. was fai, o dak, o whethe she was shot, o tall: o something of that kind; which I think I liked. Afte tea, we discussed a vaiety of topics befoe the fie; and Ms. Micawbe was good enough to sing us (in a small, thin, flat vo
