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of a hastily concealed fork sticking out of the bosom of his coat, as

if he had stabbed himself. Mrs. Micawber put on her brown gloves, and

assumed a genteel languor. Traddles ran his greasy hands through

his hair, and stood it bolt upright, and stared in confusion on the

table-cloth. As for me, I was a mere infant at the head of my own table;

and hardly ventured to glance at the respectable phenomenon, who had

come from Heaven knows where, to put my establishment to rights.

Meanwhile he took the mutton off the gridiron, and gravely handed it

round. We all took some, but our appreciation of it was gone, and we

merely made a show of eating it. As we severally pushed away our plates,

he noiselessly removed them, and set on the cheese. He took that off,

too, when it was done with; cleared the table; piled everything on the

dumb-waiter; gave us our wine-glasses; and, of his own accord, wheeled

the dumb-waiter into the pantry. All this was done in a perfect manner,

and he never raised his eyes from what he was about. Yet his very

elbows, when he had his back towards me, seemed to teem with the

expression of his fixed opinion that I was extremely young.

‘Can I do anything more, sir?’

I thanked him and said, No; but would he take no dinner himself?

‘None, I am obliged to you, sir.’

‘Is Mr. Steerforth coming from Oxford?’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘Is Mr. Steerforth coming from Oxford?’

‘I should imagine that he might be here tomorrow, sir. I rather thought

he might have been here today, sir. The mistake is mine, no doubt, sir.’

‘If you should see him first--’ said I.

‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I don’t think I shall see him first.’

‘In case you do,’ said I, ‘pray say that I am sorry he was not here

today, as an old schoolfellow of his was here.’

‘Indeed, sir!’ and he divided a bow between me and Traddles, with a

glance at the latter.

He was moving softly to the door, when, in a forlorn hope of saying

something naturally--which I never could, to this man--I said:

‘Oh! Littimer!’

‘Sir!’

‘Did you remain long at Yarmouth, that time?’

‘Not particularly so, sir.’

‘You saw the boat completed?’

‘Yes, sir. I remained behind on purpose to see the boat completed.’

‘I know!’ He raised his eyes to mine respectfully.

‘Mr. Steerforth has not seen it yet, I suppose?’

‘I really can’t say, sir. I think--but I really can’t say, sir. I wish

you good night, sir.’

He comprehended everybody present, in the respectful bow with which he

followed these words, and disappeared. My visitors seemed to breathe

more freely when he was gone; but my own relief was very great, for

besides the constraint, arising from that extraordinary sense of

being at a disadvantage which I always had in this man’s presence, my

conscience had embarrassed me with whispers that I had mistrusted his

master, and I could not repress a vague uneasy dread that he might

find it out. How was it, having so little in reality to conceal, that I

always DID feel as if this man were finding me out?

Mr. Micawber roused me from this reflection, which was blended with

a certain remorseful apprehension of seeing Steerforth himself, by

bestowing many encomiums on the absent Littimer as a most respectable

fellow, and a thoroughly admirable servant. Mr. Micawber, I may remark,

had taken his full share of the general bow, and had received it with

infinite condescension.

‘But punch, my dear Copperfield,’ said Mr. Micawber, tasting it, ‘like

time and tide, waits for no man. Ah! it is at the present moment in high

flavour. My love, will you give me your opinion?’

Mrs. Micawber pronounced it excellent.

‘Then I will drink,’ said Mr. Micawber, ‘if my friend Copperfield

will permit me to take that social liberty, to the days when my friend

Copperfield and myself were younger, and fought our way in the world

side by side. I may say, of myself and Copperfield, in words we have

sung together before now, that

We twa hae run about the braes

And pu’d the gowans’ fine

--in a figurative point of view--on several occasions. I am not exactly

aware,’ said Mr. Micawber, with the old roll in his voice, and the old

indescribable air of saying something genteel, ‘what gowans may be, but

I have no doubt that Copperfield and myself would frequently have taken

a pull at them, if it had been feasible.’

Mr. Micawber, at the then present moment, took a pull at his punch. So

we all did: Traddles evidently lost in wondering at what distant time

Mr. Micawber and I could have been comrades in the battle of the world.

‘Ahem!’ said Mr. Micawber, clearing his throat, and warming with the

punch and with the fire. ‘My dear, another glass?’

Mrs. Micawber said it must be very little; but we couldn’t allow that,

so it was a glassful.

‘As we are quite confidential here, Mr. Copperfield,’ said Mrs.

Micawber, sipping her punch, ‘Mr. Traddles being a part of our

domesticity, I should much like to have your opinion on Mr. Micawber’s

prospects. For corn,’ said Mrs. Micawber argumentatively, ‘as I have

repeatedly said to Mr. Micawber, may be gentlemanly, but it is not

remunerative. Commission to the extent of two and ninepence in

a fortnight cannot, however limited our ideas, be considered

remunerative.’

We were all agreed upon that.

‘Then,’ said Mrs. Micawber, who prided herself on taking a clear view of

things, and keeping Mr. Micawber straight by her woman’s wisdom, when he

might otherwise go a little crooked, ‘then I ask myself this question.

If corn is not to be relied upon, what is? Are coals to be relied upon?

Not at all. We have turned our attention to that experiment, on the

suggestion of my family, and we find it fallacious.’

Mr. Micawber, leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets,

eyed us aside, and nodded his head, as much as to say that the case was

very clearly put.

‘The articles of corn and coals,’ said Mrs. Micawber, still more

argumentatively, ‘being equally out of the question, Mr. Copperfield,

I naturally look round the world, and say, “What is there in which a

person of Mr. Micawber’s talent is likely to succeed?” And I exclude

the doing anything on commission, because commission is not a certainty.

What is best suited to a person of Mr. Micawber’s peculiar temperament

is, I am convinced, a certainty.’

Traddles and I both expressed, by a feeling murmur, that this great

discovery was no doubt true of Mr. Micawber, and that it did him much

credit.

‘I will not conceal from you, my dear Mr. Copperfield,’ said Mrs.

Micawber, ‘that I have long felt the Brewing business to be particularly

adapted to Mr. Micawber. Look at Barclay and Perkins! Look at Truman,

Hanbury, and Buxton! It is on that extensive footing that Mr. Micawber,

I know from my own knowledge of him, is calculated to shine; and the

profits, I am told, are e-NOR-MOUS! But if Mr. Micawber cannot get into

those firms--which decline to answer his letters, when he offers his

services even in an inferior capacity--what is the use of dwelling upon

that idea? None. I may have a conviction that Mr. Micawber’s manners--’

‘Hem! Really, my dear,’ interposed Mr. Micawber.

‘My love, be silent,’ said Mrs. Micawber, laying her brown glove on his

hand. ‘I may have a conviction, Mr. Copperfield, that Mr. Micawber’s

manners peculiarly qualify him for the Banking business. I may argue

within myself, that if I had a deposit at a banking-house, the manners

of Mr. Micawber, as representing that banking-house, would inspire

confidence, and must extend the connexion. But if the various

banking-houses refuse to avail themselves of Mr. Micawber’s abilities,

or receive the offer of them with contumely, what is the use of dwelling

upon THAT idea? None. As to originating a banking-business, I may know

that there are members of my family who, if they chose to place their

money in Mr. Micawber’s hands, might found an establishment of that

description. But if they do NOT choose to place their money in Mr.

Micawber’s hands--which they don’t--what is the use of that? Again I

contend that we are no farther advanced than we were before.’

I shook my head, and said, ‘Not a bit.’ Traddles also shook his head,

and said, ‘Not a bit.’

‘What do I deduce from this?’ Mrs. Micawber went on to say, still with

the same air of putting a case lucidly. ‘What is the conclusion, my

dear Mr. Copperfield, to which I am irresistibly brought? Am I wrong in

saying, it is clear that we must live?’

I answered ‘Not at all!’ and Traddles answered ‘Not at all!’ and I found

myself afterwards sagely adding, alone, that a person must either live

or die.

‘Just so,’ returned Mrs. Micawber, ‘It is precisely that. And the fact

is, my dear Mr. Copperfield, that we can not live without something

widely different from existing circumstances shortly turning up. Now

I am convinced, myself, and this I have pointed out to Mr. Micawber

several times of late, that things cannot be expected to turn up of

themselves. We must, in a measure, assist to turn them up. I may be

wrong, but I have formed that opinion.’

Both Traddles and I applauded it highly.

‘Very well,’ said Mrs. Micawber. ‘Then what do I recommend? Here is Mr.

Micawber with a variety of qualifications--with great talent--’

‘Really, my love,’ said Mr. Micawber.

‘Pray, my dear, allow me to conclude. Here is Mr. Micawber, with a

variety of qualifications, with great talent--I should say, with genius,

but that may be the partiality of a wife--’

Traddles and I both murmured ‘No.’

‘And here is Mr. Micawber without any suitable position or employment.

Where does that responsibility rest? Clearly on society. Then I would

make a fact so disgraceful known, and boldly challenge society to set it

right. It appears to me, my dear Mr. Copperfield,’ said Mrs. Micawber,

forcibly, ‘that what Mr. Micawber has to do, is to throw down the

gauntlet to society, and say, in effect, “Show me who will take that up.

Let the party immediately step forward.”’

I ventured to ask Mrs. Micawber how this was to be done.

‘By advertising,’ said Mrs. Micawber--‘in all the papers. It appears to

me, that what Mr. Micawber has to do, in justice to himself, in justice

to his family, and I will even go so far as to say in justice to

society, by which he has been hitherto overlooked, is to advertise in

all the papers; to describe himself plainly as so-and-so, with such and

such qualifications and to put it thus: “Now employ me, on remunerative

terms, and address, post-paid, to W. M., Post Office, Camden Town.”’

‘This idea of Mrs. Micawber’s, my dear Copperfield,’ said Mr. Micawber,

making his shirt-collar meet in front of his chin, and glancing at me

sideways, ‘is, in fact, the Leap to which I alluded, when I last had the

pleasure of seeing you.’

‘Advertising is rather expensive,’ I remarked, dubiously.

‘Exactly so!’ said Mrs. Micawber, preserving the same logical air.

‘Quite true, my dear Mr. Copperfield! I have made the identical

observation to Mr. Micawber. It is for that reason especially, that I

think Mr. Micawber ought (as I have already said, in justice to himself,

in justice to his family, and in justice to society) to raise a certain

sum of money--on a bill.’

Mr. Micawber, leaning back in his chair, trifled with his eye-glass

and cast his eyes up at the ceiling; but I thought him observant of

Traddles, too, who was looking at the fire.

‘If no member of my family,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘is possessed of

sufficient natural feeling to negotiate that bill--I believe there is a

better business-term to express what I mean--’

Mr. Micawber, with his eyes still cast up at the ceiling, suggested

‘Discount.’

‘To discount that bill,’ said Mrs. Micawber, ‘then my opinion is, that

Mr. Micawber should go into the City, should take that bill into the

Money Market, and should dispose of it for what he can get. If the

individuals in the Money Market oblige Mr. Micawber to sustain a great

sacrifice, that is between themselves and their consciences. I view

it, steadily, as an investment. I recommend Mr. Micawber, my dear Mr.

Copperfield, to do the same; to regard it as an investment which is sure

of return, and to make up his mind to any sacrifice.’

I felt, but I am sure I don’t know why, that this was self-denying

and devoted in Mrs. Micawber, and I uttered a murmur to that effect.

Traddles, who took his tone from me, did likewise, still looking at the

fire.

‘I will not,’ said Mrs. Micawber, finishing her punch, and gathering her

scarf about her shoulders, preparatory to her withdrawal to my bedroom:

‘I will not protract these remarks on the subject of Mr. Micawber’s

pecuniary affairs. At your fireside, my dear Mr. Copperfield, and in the

presence of Mr. Traddles, who, though not so old a friend, is quite one

of ourselves, I could not refrain from making you acquainted with the

course I advise Mr. Micawber to take. I feel that the time is arrived

when Mr. Micawber should exert himself and--I will add--assert himself,

and it appears to me that these are the means. I am aware that I am

merely a female, and that a masculine judgement is usually considered

more competent to the discussion of such questions; still I must not

forget that, when I lived at home with my papa and mama, my papa was in

the habit of saying, “Emma’s form is fragile, but her grasp of a subject

is inferior to none.” That my papa was too partial, I well know; but

that he was an observer of character in some degree, my duty and my

reason equally forbid me to doubt.’

With these words, and resisting our entreaties that she would grace

the remaining circulation of the punch with her presence, Mrs. Micawber

retired to my bedroom. And really I felt that she was a noble woman--the

sort of woman who might have been a Roman matron, and done all manner of

heroic things, in times of public trouble.

In the fervour of this impression, I congratulated Mr. Micawber on the

treasure he possessed. So did Traddles. Mr. Micawber extended his

hand to each of us in succession, and then covered his face with his

pocket-handkerchief, which I think had more snuff upon it than he