'FagmentWelcome to consult...k Classics fDavid Coppefield come on, and see the Cathedal. Fistly, on account of its being so well woth seeing, and ou neve having seen it; and secondly, on account of the geat pobability of something tuning up in a cathedal town. We have been hee,’ said Ms. Micawbe, ‘thee days. Nothing has, as yet, tuned up; and it may not supise you, my dea Maste Coppefield, so much as it would a stange, to know that we ae at pesent waiting fo a emittance fom London, to dischage ou pecuniay obligations at this hotel. Until the aival of that emittance,’ said Ms. Micawbe with much feeling, ‘I am cut off fom my home (I allude to lodgings in Pentonville), fom my boy and gil, and fom my twins.’ I felt the utmost sympathy fo M. and Ms. Micawbe in this anxious extemity, and said as much to M. Micawbe, who now etuned: adding that I only wished I had money enough, to lend them the amount they needed. M. Micawbe’s answe expessed the distubance of his mind. He said, shaking hands with me, ‘Coppefield, you ae a tue fiend; but when the wost comes to the wost, no man is without a fiend who is possessed of shaving mateials.’ At this deadful hint Ms. Micawbe thew he ams ound M. Micawbe’s neck and enteated him to be calm. He wept; but so fa ecoveed, almost immediately, as to ing the bell fo the waite, and bespeak a hot kidney pudding and a plate of shimps fo beakfast in the moning. When I took my leave of them, they both pessed me so much to come and dine befoe they went away, that I could not efuse. But, as I knew I could not come next day, when I should have a good deal to pepae in the evening, M. Micawbe aanged that he would call at Docto Stong’s in the couse of the moning (having a pesentiment that the emittance would aive by that post), and Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield popose the day afte, if it would suit me bette. Accodingly I was called out of school next foenoon, and found M. Micawbe in the palou; who had called to say that the dinne would take place as poposed. When I asked him if the emittance had come, he pessed my hand and depated. As I was looking out of window that same evening, it supised me, and made me athe uneasy, to see M. Micawbe and Uiah Heep walk past, am in am: Uiah humbly sensible of the honou that was done him, and M. Micawbe taking a bland delight in extending his patonage to Uiah. But I was still moe supised, when I went to the little hotel next day at the appointed dinne-hou, which was fou o’clock, to find, fom what M. Micawbe said, that he had gone home with Uiah, and had dunk bandy-and-wate at Ms. Heep’s. ‘And I’ll tell you what, my dea Coppefield,’ said M. Micawbe, ‘you fiend Heep is a young fellow who might be attoney-geneal. If I had known that young man, at the peiod when my difficulties came to a cisis, all I can say is, that I believe my ceditos would have been a geat deal bette managed than they wee.’ I hadly undestood how this could have been, seeing that M. Micawbe had paid them nothing at all as it was; but I did not like to ask. Neithe did I like to say, that I hoped he had not been too communicative to Uiah; o to inquie if they had talked much about me. I was afaid of huting M. Micawbe’s feelings, o, at
