Дэвид Копперфильд

The Emigrants

           Micawber,pensivelyshakingherhead,‘thatmyfamilywillappearonboard,beforewefinallydepart.’

           Mr.Micawberevidentlyhadhispresentimentonthesubjecttoo,butheputitinhistinpotandswallowedit.

           ‘Ifyouhaveanyopportunityofsendinglettershome,onyourpassage,Mrs.Micawber,’saidmyaunt,‘youmustletushearfromyou,youknow.’

           ‘MydearMissTrotwood,’shereplied,‘Ishallonlybetoohappytothinkthatanyoneexpectstohearfromus.Ishallnotfailtocorrespond.Mr.Copperfield,Itrust,asanoldandfamiliarfriend,willnotobjecttoreceiveoccasionalintelligence,himself,fromonewhoknewhimwhenthetwinswereyetunconscious?’

           IsaidthatIshouldhopetohear,whenevershehadanopportunityofwriting.

           ‘PleaseHeaven,therewillbemanysuchopportunities,’saidMr.Micawber.‘Theocean,inthesetimes,isaperfectfleetofships;andwecanhardlyfailtoencountermany,inrunningover.Itismerelycrossing,’saidMr.Micawber,triflingwithhiseye-glass,‘merelycrossing.Thedistanceisquiteimaginary.’

           Ithink,now,howodditwas,buthowwonderfullylikeMr.Micawber,that,whenhewentfromLondontoCanterbury,heshouldhavetalkedasifheweregoingtothefarthestlimitsoftheearth;and,whenhewentfromEnglandtoAustralia,asifheweregoingforalittletripacrossthechannel.

           ‘Onthevoyage,Ishallendeavour,’saidMr.

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