Дэвид Копперфильд

I Begin Life on My Own Account, and Don’t Like it

           

           Therewasaclubintheprison,inwhichMr.Micawber,asagentleman,wasagreatauthority.Mr.Micawberhadstatedhisideaofthispetitiontotheclub,andtheclubhadstronglyapprovedofthesame.WhereforeMr.Micawber(whowasathoroughlygood-naturedman,andasactiveacreatureabouteverythingbuthisownaffairsaseverexisted,andneversohappyaswhenhewasbusyaboutsomethingthatcouldneverbeofanyprofittohim)settoworkatthepetition,inventedit,engrosseditonanimmensesheetofpaper,spreaditoutonatable,andappointedatimeforalltheclub,andallwithinthewallsiftheychose,tocomeuptohisroomandsignit.

           WhenIheardofthisapproachingceremony,Iwassoanxioustoseethemallcomein,oneafteranother,thoughIknewthegreaterpartofthemalready,andtheyme,thatIgotanhour’sleaveofabsencefromMurdstoneandGrinby’s,andestablishedmyselfinacornerforthatpurpose.Asmanyoftheprincipalmembersoftheclubascouldbegotintothesmallroomwithoutfillingit,supportedMr.Micawberinfrontofthepetition,whilemyoldfriendCaptainHopkins(whohadwashedhimself,todohonourtososolemnanoccasion)stationedhimselfclosetoit,toreadittoallwhowereunacquaintedwithitscontents.Thedoorwasthenthrownopen,andthegeneralpopulationbegantocomein,inalongfile:severalwaitingoutside,whileoneentered,affixedhissignature,andwentout.Toeverybodyinsuccession,CaptainHopkinssaid:‘Haveyoureadit?’‘No

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