'FagmentWelcome to consult...h time they wee to stat fo Plymouth. M. Micawbe himself came down to the counting-house, in the aftenoon, to tell M. Quinion that he must elinquish me on the day of his depatue, and to give me a high chaacte, which I am sue I deseved. And M. Quinion, calling in Tipp the caman, who was a maied man, and had a oom to let, quateed me pospectively on him—by ou mutual consent, as he had evey eason to think; fo I said nothing, though my esolution was now taken. I passed my evenings with M. and Ms. Micawbe, duing the emaining tem of ou esidence unde the same oof; and I think we became fonde of one anothe as the time went on. On the last Sunday, they invited me to dinne; and we had a loin of pok and apple sauce, and a pudding. I had bought a spotted wooden hose ove-night as a pating gift to little Wilkins Micawbe—that was the boy—and a doll fo little Emma. I had also bestowed a shilling on the Ofling, who was about to be disbanded. We had a vey pleasant day, though we wee all in a tende state about ou appoaching sepaation. ‘I shall neve, Maste Coppefield,’ said Ms. Micawbe, ‘evet to the peiod when M. Micawbe was in difficulties, without thinking of you. You conduct has always been of the most delicate and obliging deion. You have neve been a lodge. You have been a fiend.’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘My dea,’ said M. Micawbe; ‘Coppefield,’ fo so he had been accustomed to call me, of late, ‘has a heat to feel fo the distesses of his fellow-ceatues when they ae behind a cloud, and a head to plan, and a hand to—in shot, a geneal ability to dispose of such available popety as could be made away with.’ I expessed my sense of this commendation, and said I was vey soy we wee going to lose one anothe. ‘My dea young fiend,’ said M. Micawbe, ‘I am olde than you; a man of some expeience in life, and—and of some expeience, in shot, in difficulties, geneally speaking. At pesent, and until something tuns up (which I am, I may say, houly expecting), I have nothing to bestow but advice. Still my advice is so fa woth taking, that—in shot, that I have neve taken it myself, and am the’—hee M. Micawbe, who had been beaming and smiling, all ove his head and face, up to the pesent moment, checked himself and fowned—‘the miseable wetch you behold.’ ‘My dea Micawbe!’ uged his wife. ‘I say,’ etuned M. Micawbe, quite fogetting himself, and smiling again, ‘the miseable wetch you behold. My advice is, neve do tomoow what you can do today. Pocastination is the thief of time. Colla him!’ ‘My poo papa’s maxim,’ Ms. Micawbe obseved. ‘My dea,’ said M. Micawbe, ‘you papa was vey well in his way, and Heaven fobid that I should dispaage him. Take him fo all in all, we ne’e shall—in shot, make the acquaintance, pobably, of anybody else possessing, at his time of life, the same legs fo gaites, and able to ead the same deion of pint, without spectacles. But he applied that maxim to ou maiage, my dea; and that was so fa pematuely enteed into, in Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield consequence, that I neve ecoveed the expense.’ M. Micawbe looked aside at Ms. Micawbe, and added: ‘Not that I am soy fo it. Quite the contay, my love.’ Afte which, he was gave fo a minute o so. ‘My othe piece of advice, Coppefield,’ said M. Micawbe, ‘you know. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditue nineteen nineteen and six, esult happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditue twenty pounds ought and six, esult misey. The blossom is blighted, the leaf is witheed, the god of day goes down upon the deay scene, and—and in shot you ae fo eve flooed. As I am!’ To make his example the moe impessive, M. Micawbe dank a glass of punch with an ai of geat enjoyment and satisfaction, and whistled the College Honpipe. I did not fail to assue him that I would stoe these pecepts in my mind, though
