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The Personal History of David Copperfield

The relish with which Mr. Micawber described himself, as a prey to these dismal calamities, was only to be equalled by the emphasis with which he read his letter; and the kind of homage he rendered to it with a roll of his head, when he thought he had hit a sentence very hard indeed.

“‘In an accumulation of Ignominy, Want, Despair, and Madness, I entered the office – or, as our lively neighbour the Gaul would term it, the Bureau – of the Firm, nominally conducted under the appellation of Wickfield and – Heep, but, in reality, wielded by – Heep alone. Heep, and only Heep, is the mainspring of that machine. Heep, and only Heep, is the Forger and the Cheat.’”

Uriah, more blue than white at these words, made a dart at the letter, as if to tear it in pieces. Mr. Micawber, with a perfect miracle of dexterity or luck, caught his advancing knuckles with the ruler, and disabled his right hand. It dropped at the wrist, as if it were broken. The blow sounded as if it had fallen on wood.

“The Devil take you!” said Uriah, writhing in a new way with pain. “I’ll be even with you.”

“Approach me again, you – you – you Heep of infamy,” gasped Mr. Micawber, “and if your head is human, I’ll break it. Come on, come on!”

I think I never saw anything more ridiculous – I was sensible of it, even at the time – than Mr. Micawber making broad-sword guards with the ruler, and crying “Come on!” while Traddles and I pushed him back into a corner, from which, as often as we got him into it, he persisted in emerging again.

His enemy, muttering to himself, after wringing his wounded hand for some time, slowly drew off his neck-kerchief and bound it up; then, held it in his other hand, and sat upon his table with his sullen face looking down.

Mr. Micawber, when he was sufficiently cool, proceeded with his letter.

“‘The stipendiary emoluments in consideration of which I entered into the service of – Heep,’” always pausing before that word, and uttering it with astonishing vigor, “‘were not defined, beyond the pittance of twenty-two shillings and six per week. The rest was left contingent on the value of my professional exertions; in other and more expressive words, on the baseness of my nature, the cupidity of my motives, the poverty of my family, the general moral (or rather immoral) resemblance between myself and – Heep. Need I say, that it soon became necessary for me to solicit from – Heep – pecuniary advances towards the support of Mrs. Micawber, and our blighted but rising family! Need I say that this necessity had been foreseen by – Heep? That those advances were secured by I. O. U.’s and other similar acknowledgments, known to the legal institutions of this country. And that I thus became immeshed in the web he had spun for my reception?’”

Mr. Micawber’s enjoyment of his epistolary powers, in describing this unfortunate state of things, really seemed to outweigh any pain or anxiety that the reality could have caused him. He read on:

“‘Then it was that – Heep – began to favor me with just so much of his confidence, as was necessary to the discharge of his infernal business. Then it was that I began, if I may so Shakespearianly express myself, to dwindle, peak, and pine. I found that my services were constantly called into requisition for the falsification of business, and the mystification of an individual whom I will designate as Mr. W. That Mr. W. was imposed upon, kept in ignorance, and deluded, in every possible way; yet, that all this while, the ruffian – Heep – was professing unbounded gratitude to, and unbounded friendship for, that much abused gentleman. This was bad enough; but, as the philosophic Dane observes, with that universal applicability which distinguishes the illustrious ornament of the Elizabethian Era, worse remains behind!’”

Mr. Micawber was so very much struck by this happy rounding off with a quotation, that he indulged himself, and us, with a second reading of the sentence, under pretence of having lost his place.

“‘It is not my intention,’” he continued, reading on, “‘to enter on a detailed list, within the compass of the present epistle (though it is ready elsewhere), of the various malpractices of a minor nature, affecting the individual whom I have denominated Mr. W., to which I have been a tacitly consenting party. My object, when the contest within myself between stipend and no stipend, baker and no baker, existence and non-existence, ceased, was to take advantage of my opportunities to discover and expose the major malpractices committed, to that gentleman’s grievous wrong and injury, by – Heep. Stimulated by the silent monitor within, and by a no less touching and appealing monitor without – to whom I will briefly refer as Miss W. – I entered on a not unlaborious task of clandestine investigation, protracted now, to the best of my knowledge, information, and belief, over a period exceeding twelve calendar months.’”

He read this passage, as if it were from an Act of Parliament; and appeared majestically refreshed by the sound of the words.

“‘My charges against – Heep,’” he read on, glancing at him, and drawing the ruler into a convenient position under his left arm, in case of need, “‘are as follows.’”

We all held our breath, I think. I am sure Uriah held his.

“‘First,’” said Mr. Micawber. “‘When Mr. W.’s faculties and memory for business became, through causes into which it is not necessary or expedient for me to enter, weakened and confused, – Heep – designedly perplexed and complicated the whole of the official transactions. When Mr. W. was least fit to enter on business, – Heep – was always at hand to force him to enter on it. He obtained Mr. W.’s signature under such circumstances to documents of importance, representing them to be other documents of no importance. He induced Mr. W. to empower him to draw out, thus, one particular sum of trust-money, amounting to twelve six fourteen, two, and nine, and employed it to meet pretended business charges and deficiencies which were either already provided for, or had never really existed. He gave this proceeding, throughout, the appearance of having originated in Mr. W.’s own dishonest intention, and of having been accomplished by Mr. W.’s own dishonest act; and has used it, ever since, to torture and constrain him.’”

“You shall prove this, you Copperfield!” said Uriah, with a threatening shake of the head. “All in good time!”

“Ask – Heep – Mr. Traddles, who lived in his house after him,” said Mr. Micawber, breaking off from the letter; “will you?”

“The fool himself – and lives there now,” said Uriah, disdainfully.

“Ask – Heep – if he ever kept a pocket-book in that house,” said Mr. Micawber; “will you?”

I saw Uriah’s lank hand stop, involuntarily, in the scraping of his chin.

“Or ask him,” said Mr. Micawber, “if he ever burnt one there. If he says yes, and asks you where the ashes are, refer him to Wilkins Micawber, and he will hear of something not at all to his advantage!”

The triumphant flourish with which Mr. Micawber delivered himself of these words, had a powerful effect in alarming the mother; who cried out, in much agitation:

“Ury, Ury! Be umble, and make terms, my dear!”

“Mother!” he retorted, “will you keep quiet? You’re in a fright, and don’t know what you say or mean. Umble!” he repeated, looking at me, with a snarl; “I’ve umbled some of ’em for a pretty long time back, umble as I was!”

Mr. Micawber, genteelly adjusting his chin in his cravat, presently proceeded with his composition.

“‘Second. Heep has, on several occasions, to the best of my knowledge, information, and belief’” —

“But that won’t do,” muttered Uriah, relieved. “Mother, you keep quiet.”

“We will endeavour to provide something that WILL do, and do for you finally, sir, very shortly,” replied Mr. Micawber.

“‘Second. Heep has, on several occasions, to the best of my knowledge, information, and belief, systematically forged, to various entries, books, and documents, the signature of Mr. W.; and has distinctly done so in one instance, capable of proof by me. To wit, in manner following, that is to say:’”

Again, Mr. Micawber had a relish in this formal piling up of words, which, however ludicrously displayed in his case, was, I must say, not at all peculiar to him. I have observed it, in the course of my life, in numbers of men. It seems to me to be a general rule. In the taking of legal oaths, for instance, deponents seem to enjoy themselves mightily when they come to several good words in succession, for the expression of one idea; as, that they utterly detest, abominate, and abjure, or so forth; and the old anathemas were made relishing on the same principle. We talk about the tyranny of words, but we like to tyrannise over them too; we are fond of having a large superfluous establishment of words to wait upon us on great occasions; we think it looks important, and sounds well. As we are not particular about the meaning of our liveries on state occasions, if they be but fine and numerous enough, so, the meaning or necessity of our words is a secondary consideration, if there be but a great parade of them. And as individuals get into trouble by making too great a show of liveries, or as slaves when they are too numerous rise against their masters, so I think I could mention a nation that has got into many great difficulties, and will get into many greater, from maintaining too large a retinue of words.

Mr. Micawber read on, almost smacking his lips:

“‘To wit, in manner following, that is to say. Mr. W. being infirm, and it being within the bounds of probability that his decease might lead to some discoveries, and to the downfall of – Heep’s – power over the W. family, – as I, Wilkins Micawber, the undersigned, assume – unless the filial affection of his daughter could be secretly influenced from allowing any investigation of the partnership affairs to be ever made, the said – Heep – deemed it expedient to have a bond ready by him, as from Mr. W., for the before-mentioned sum of twelve six fourteen, two and nine, with interest, stated therein to have been advanced by – Heep – to Mr. W. to save Mr. W. from dishonor; though really the sum was never advanced by him, and has long been replaced. The signatures to this instrument, purporting to be executed by Mr. W. and attested by Wilkins Micawber, are forgeries by – Heep. I have, in my possession, in his hand and pocket-book, several similar imitations of Mr. W.’s signature, here and there defaced by fire, but legible to any one. I never attested any such document. And I have the document itself, in my possession.’”

Uriah Heep, with a start, took out of his pocket a bunch of keys, and opened a certain drawer; then, suddenly bethought himself of what he was about, and turned again towards us, without looking in it.

“‘And I have the document,’” Mr. Micawber read again, looking about as if it were the text of a sermon, “‘in my possession,’ – that is to say, I had, early this morning, when this was written, but have since relinquished it to Mr. Traddles.”

“It is quite true,” assented Traddles.

“Ury, Ury!” cried the mother, “be umble and make terms. I know my son will be umble, gentlemen, if you’ll give him time to think. Mr. Copperfield, I’m sure you know that he was always very umble, sir!”

It was singular to see how the mother still held to the old trick, when the son had abandoned it as useless.

“Mother,” he said, with an impatient bite at the handkerchief in which his hand was wrapped, “you had better take and fire a loaded gun at me.”

“But I love you, Ury,” cried Mrs. Heep. And I have no doubt she did; or that he loved her, however strange it may appear; though, to be sure, they were a congenial couple. “And I can’t bear to hear you provoking the gentlemen, and endangering of yourself more. I told the gentleman at first, when he told me up-stairs it was come to light, that I would answer for your being umble, and making amends. Oh, see how umble I am, gentlemen, and don’t mind him!”

“Why, there’s Copperfield, mother,” he angrily retorted, pointing his lean finger at me, against whom all his animosity was levelled, as the prime mover in the discovery; and I did not undeceive him; “there’s Copperfield, would have given you a hundred pound to say less than you’ve blurted out!”

“I can’t help it, Ury,” cried his mother. “I can’t see you running into danger, through carrying your head so high. Better be umble, as you always was.”

He remained for a little, biting the handkerchief, and then said to me with a scowl:

“What more have you got to bring forward? If anything, go on with it. What do you look at me for?”

Mr. Micawber promptly resumed his letter, only too glad to revert to a performance with which he was so highly satisfied.

“‘Third. And last. I am now in a condition to show, by – Heep’s – false books, and – Heep’s – real memoranda, beginning with the partially destroyed pocket-book (which I was unable to comprehend, at the time of its accidental discovery by Mrs. Micawber, on our taking possession of our present abode, in the locker or binn devoted to the reception of the ashes calcined on our domestic hearth), that the weaknesses, the faults, the very virtues, the parental affections, and the sense of honor, of the unhappy Mr. W. have been for years acted on by, and warped to the base purposes of – Heep. That Mr. W. has been for years deluded and plundered, in every conceivable manner, to the pecuniary aggrandisement of the avaricious, false, and grasping – Heep. That the engrossing object of – Heep – was, next to gain, to subdue Mr. and Miss W. (of his ulterior views in reference to the latter I say nothing) entirely to himself. That his last act, completed but a few months since, was to induce Mr. W. to execute a relinquishment of his share in the partnership, and even a bill of sale on the very furniture of his house, in consideration of a certain annuity, to be well and truly paid by – Heep – on the four common quarter-days in each and every year. That these meshes; beginning with alarming and falsified accounts of the estate of which Mr. W. is the receiver, at a period when Mr. W. had launched into imprudent and ill-judged speculations, and may not have had the money, for which he was morally and legally responsible, in hand; going on with pretended borrowings of money at enormous interest, really coming from – Heep – and by – Heep – fraudulently obtained or withheld from Mr. W. himself, on pretence of such speculations or otherwise; perpetuated by a miscellaneous catalogue of unscrupulous chicaneries – gradually thickened, until the unhappy Mr. W. could see no world beyond. Bankrupt, as he believed, alike in circumstances, in all other hope, and in honor, his sole reliance was upon the monster in the garb of man,’” – Mr. Micawber made a good deal of this, as a new turn of expression, – “‘who, by making himself necessary to him, had achieved his destruction. All this I undertake to show. Probably much more!’”

I whispered a few words to Agnes, who was weeping, half joyfully, half-sorrowfully, at my side; and there was a movement among us, as if Mr. Micawber had finished. He said, with exceeding gravity, “Pardon me,” and proceeded, with a mixture of the lowest spirits and the most intense enjoyment, to the peroration of his letter.

“‘I have now concluded. It merely remains for me to substantiate these accusations; and then, with my ill-starred family, to disappear from the landscape on which we appear to be an incumbrance. That is soon done. It may be reasonably inferred that our baby will first expire of inanition, as being the frailest member of our circle; and that our twins will follow next in order. So be it! For myself, my Canterbury Pilgrimage has done much; imprisonment on civil process, and want, will soon do more. I trust that the labor and hazard of an investigation – of which the smallest results have been slowly pieced together, in the pressure of arduous avocations, under grinding penurious apprehensions, at rise of morn, at dewy eve, in the shadows of night, under the watchful eye of one whom it were superfluous to call Demon – combined with the struggle of parental Poverty to turn it, when completed, to the right account, may be as the sprinkling of a few drops of sweet water on my funereal pyre. I ask no more. Let it be, in justice, merely said of me, as of a gallant and eminent naval Hero, with whom I have no pretensions to cope, that what I have done, I did, in despite of mercenary and selfish objects,

For England, home, and Beauty.

“‘Remaining always, &c. &c., Wilkins Micawber.’”

Much affected, but still intensely enjoying himself, Mr. Micawber folded up his letter, and handed it with a bow to my aunt, as something she might like to keep.

There was, as I had noticed on my first visit long ago, an iron safe in the room. The key was in it. A hasty suspicion seemed to strike Uriah; and, with a glance at Mr. Micawber, he went to it, and threw the doors clanking open. It was empty.

“Where are the books!” he cried, with a frightful face. “Some thief has stolen the books!”

Mr. Micawber tapped himself with the ruler. “I did, when I got the key from you as usual – but a little earlier – and opened it this morning.”

“Don’t be uneasy,” said Traddles. “They have come into my possession. I will take care of them, under the authority I mentioned.”

“You receive stolen goods, do you?” cried Uriah.

“Under such circumstances,” answered Traddles, “yes.”

What was my astonishment when I beheld my aunt, who had been profoundly quiet and attentive, make a dart at Uriah Heep, and seize him by the collar with both hands!

“You know what I want?” said my aunt.

“A strait-waistcoat,” said he.

“No. My property!” returned my aunt. “Agnes, my dear, as long as I believed it had been really made away with by your father, I wouldn’t – and, my dear, I didn’t, even to Trot, as he knows – breathe a syllable of its having been placed here for investment. But, now I know this fellow’s answerable for it, and I’ll have it! Trot, come and take it away from him!”

Whether my aunt supposed, for the moment, that he kept her property in his neck-kerchief, I am sure I don’t know; but she certainly pulled at it as if she thought so. I hastened to put myself between them, and to assure her that we would all take care that he should make the utmost restitution of everything he had wrongly got. This, and a few moments’ reflection, pacified her; but she was not at all disconcerted by what she had done (though I cannot say as much for her bonnet) and resumed her seat composedly.

During the last few minutes, Mrs. Heep had been clamoring to her son to be “umble;” and had been going down on her knees to all of us in succession, and making the wildest promises. Her son sat her down in his chair; and, standing sulkily by her, holding her arm with his hand, but not rudely, said to me, with a ferocious look:

“What do you want done?”

“I will tell you what must be done,” said Traddles.

“Has that Copperfield no tongue?” muttered Uriah. “I would do a good deal for you if you could tell me, without lying, that somebody had cut it out.”

“My Uriah means to be umble!” cried his mother. “Don’t mind what he says, good gentlemen!”

“What must be done,” said Traddles, “is this. First, the deed of relinquishment, that we have heard of, must be given over to me now – here.”

“Suppose I haven’t got it,” he interrupted.

“But you have,” said Traddles; “therefore, you know, we won’t suppose so.” And I cannot help avowing that this was the first occasion on which I really did justice to the clear head, and the plain, patient, practical good sense, of my old schoolfellow. “Then,” said Traddles, “you must prepare to disgorge all that your rapacity has become possessed of, and to make restoration to the last farthing. All the partnership books and papers must remain in our possession; all your books and papers; all money accounts and securities, of both kinds. In short, everything here.”

“Must it? I don’t know that,” said Uriah. “I must have time to think about that.”

“Certainly,” replied Traddles; “but, in the meanwhile, and until everything is done to our satisfaction, we shall maintain possession of these things; and beg you – in short, compel you – to keep your own room, and hold no communication with any one.”

“I won’t do it!” said Uriah, with an oath.

“Maidstone Jail is a safer place of detention,” observed Traddles; “and though the law may be longer in righting us, and may not be able to right us so completely as you can, there is no doubt of its punishing you. Dear me, you know that quite as well as I! Copperfield, will you go round to the Guildhall, and bring a couple of officers?”

Here, Mrs. Heep broke out again, crying on her knees to Agnes to interfere in their behalf, exclaiming that he was very humble, and it was all true, and if he didn’t do what we wanted, she would, and much more to the same purpose; being half frantic with fears for her darling. To inquire what he might have done, if he had had any boldness, would be like inquiring what a mongrel cur might do, if it had the spirit of a tiger. He was a coward, from head to foot; and showed his dastardly nature through his sullenness and mortification, as much as at any time of his mean life.

“Stop!” he growled to me; and wiped his hot face with his hand. “Mother, hold your noise. Well! Let’em have that deed. Go and fetch it!”

“Do you help her, Mr. Dick,” said Traddles, “if you please.”

Proud of his commission, and understanding it, Mr. Dick accompanied her as a shepherd’s dog might accompany a sheep. But, Mrs. Heep gave him little trouble; for she not only returned with the deed, but with the box in which it was, where we found a banker’s book and some other papers that were afterwards serviceable.

“Good!” said Traddles, when this was brought. “Now, Mr. Heep, you can retire to think: particularly observing, if you please, that I declare to you, on the part of all present, that there is only one thing to be done; that it is what I have explained; and that it must be done without delay.”

Uriah, without lifting his eyes from the ground, shuffled across the room with his hand to his chin, and pausing at the door, said:

“Copperfield, I have always hated you. You’ve always been an upstart, and you’ve always been against me.”

“As I think I told you once before,” said I, “it is you who have been, in your greed and cunning, against all the world. It may be profitable to you to reflect, in future, that there never were greed and cunning in the world yet, that did not do too much, and over-reach themselves. It is as certain as death.”

“Or as certain as they used to teach at school (the same school where I picked up so much umbleness), from nine o’clock to eleven, that labor was a curse; and from eleven o’clock to one, that it was a blessing and a cheerfulness, and a dignity, and I don’t know what all, eh?” said he with a sneer. “You preach, about as consistent as they did. Won’t umbleness go down? I shouldn’t have got round my gentleman fellow-partner without it, I think. – Micawber, you old bully, I’ll pay you!”

Mr. Micawber, supremely defiant of him and his extended finger, and making a great deal of his chest until he had slunk out at the door, then addressed himself to me, and proffered me the satisfaction of “witnessing the re-establishment of mutual confidence between himself and Mrs. Micawber.” After which, he invited the company generally to the contemplation of that affecting spectacle.

“The veil that has long been interposed between Mrs. Micawber and myself, is now withdrawn,” said Mr. Micawber; “and my children and the Author of their Being can once more come in contact on equal terms.”

As we were all very grateful to him, and all desirous to show that we were, as well as the hurry and disorder of our spirits would permit, I dare say we should all have gone, but that it was necessary for Agnes to return to her father, as yet unable to bear more than the dawn of hope; and for some one else to hold Uriah in safe keeping. So, Traddles remained for the latter purpose, to be presently relieved by Mr. Dick; and Mr. Dick, my aunt, and I, went home with Mr. Micawber. As I parted hurriedly from the dear girl to whom I owed so much, and thought from what she had been saved, perhaps, that morning – her better resolution notwithstanding – I felt devoutly thankful for the miseries of my younger days which had brought me to the knowledge of Mr. Micawber.

His house was not far off; and as the street-door opened into the sitting room, and he bolted in with a precipitation quite his own, we found ourselves at once in the bosom of the family. Mr. Micawber exclaiming, “Emma! my life!” rushed into Mrs. Micawber’s arms. Mrs. Micawber shrieked, and folded Mr. Micawber in her embrace. Miss Micawber, nursing the unconscious stranger of Mrs. Micawber’s last letter to me, was sensibly affected. The stranger leaped. The twins testified their joy by several inconvenient but innocent demonstrations. Master Micawber, whose disposition appeared to have been soured by early disappointment, and whose aspect had become morose, yielded to his better feelings, and blubbered.

“Emma!” said Mr. Micawber. “The cloud is past from my mind. Mutual confidence, so long preserved between us once, is restored, to know no farther interruption. Now, welcome poverty!” cried Mr. Micawber, shedding tears. “Welcome misery, welcome houselessness, welcome hunger, rags, tempest, and beggary! Mutual confidence will sustain us to the end!”

With these expressions, Mr. Micawber placed Mrs. Micawber in a chair, and embraced the family all round; welcoming a variety of bleak prospects, which appeared, to the best of my judgment, to be anything but welcome to them; and calling upon them to come out into Canterbury and sing a chorus, as nothing else was left for their support.

But Mrs. Micawber having, in the strength of her emotions, fainted away, the first thing to be done, even before the chorus could be considered complete, was to recover her. This, my aunt and Mr. Micawber did; and then my aunt was introduced, and Mrs. Micawber recognised me.

“Excuse me, dear Mr. Copperfield,” said the poor lady, giving me her hand, “but I am not strong; and the removal of the late misunderstanding between Mr. Micawber and myself was at first too much for me.”

“Is this all your family, ma’am?” said my aunt.

“There are no more at present,” returned Mrs. Micawber.

“Good gracious, I didn’t mean that, ma’am,” said my aunt. “I mean are all these yours?”

“Madam,” replied Mr. Micawber, “it is a true bill.”

“And that eldest young gentleman, now,” said my aunt, musing. “What has he been brought up to?”

“It was my hope when I came here,” said Mr. Micawber, “to have got Wilkins into the Church: or perhaps I shall express my meaning more strictly, if I say the Choir. But there was no vacancy for a tenor in the venerable Pile for which this city is so justly eminent; and he has – in short, he has contracted a habit of singing in public-houses, rather than in sacred edifices.”

“But he means well,” said Mrs. Micawber, tenderly.

“I dare say, my love,” rejoined Mr. Micawber, “that he means particularly well; but I have not yet found that he carries out his meaning, in any given direction whatsoever.”

Master Micawber’s moroseness of aspect returned upon him again, and he demanded, with some temper, what he was to do? Whether he had been born a carpenter, or a coach painter, any more than he had been born a bird? Whether he could go into the next street, and open a chemist’s shop? Whether he could rush to the next assizes, and proclaim himself a lawyer? Whether he could come out by force at the opera, and succeed by violence? Whether he could do anything, without being brought up to something?

My aunt mused a little while, and then said:

“Mr. Micawber, I wonder you have never turned your thoughts to emigration.”

“Madam,” returned Mr. Micawber, “it was the dream of my youth, and the fallacious aspiration of my riper years.” I am thoroughly persuaded, by the bye, that he had never thought of it in his life.

“Aye?” said my aunt, with a glance at me. “Why, what a thing it would be for yourselves and your family, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber, if you were to emigrate now.”

“Capital, madam, capital,” urged Mr. Micawber, gloomily.

“That is the principal, I may say the only difficulty, my dear Mr. Copperfield,” assented his wife.

“Capital?” cried my aunt. “But you are doing us a great service – have done us a great service, I may say, for surely much will come out of the fire – and what could we do for you, that would be half so good as to find the capital?”

“I could not receive it as a gift,” said Mr. Micawber, full of fire and animation, “but if a sufficient sum could be advanced, say at five per cent. interest, per annum, upon my personal liability – say my notes of hand, at twelve, eighteen, and twenty-four months, respectively, to allow time for something to turn up – ”

“Could be? Can be, and shall be, on your own terms,” returned my aunt, “if you say the word. Think of this now, both of you. Here are some people David knows, going out to Australia shortly. If you decide to go, why shouldn’t you go in the same ship? You may help each other. Think of this now, Mr. and Mrs. Micawber. Take your time, and weigh it well.”

“There is but one question, my dear ma’am, I could wish to ask,” said Mrs. Micawber. “The climate, I believe, is healthy.”

“Finest in the world!” said my aunt.

“Just so,” returned Mrs. Micawber. “Then my question arises. Now, are the circumstances of the country such, that a man of Mr. Micawber’s abilities would have a fair chance of rising in the social scale? I will not say, at present, might he aspire to be Governor, or anything of that sort; but would there be a reasonable opening for his talents to develop themselves – that, would be amply sufficient – and find their own expansion?”

“No better opening anywhere,” said my aunt, “for a man who conducts himself well, and is industrious.”