Дэвид Копперфильд

My ‘First Half’ at Salem House

           Ithappenedononeoccasion,whenhewasdoingmethehonouroftalkingtomeintheplayground,thatIhazardedtheobservationthatsomethingorsomebodyIforgetwhatnowwaslikesomethingorsomebodyinPeregrinePickle.Hesaidnothingatthetime;butwhenIwasgoingtobedatnight,askedmeifIhadgotthatbook?

           Itoldhimno,andexplainedhowitwasthatIhadreadit,andallthoseotherbooksofwhichIhavemademention.

           ‘Anddoyourecollectthem?’Steerforthsaid.

           ‘Ohyes,’Ireplied;Ihadagoodmemory,andIbelievedIrecollectedthemverywell.

           ‘ThenItellyouwhat,youngCopperfield,’saidSteerforth,‘youshalltell‘emtome.Ican’tgettosleepveryearlyatnight,andIgenerallywakeratherearlyinthemorning.We’llgoover‘emoneafteranother.We’llmakesomeregularArabianNightsofit.’

           Ifeltextremelyflatteredbythisarrangement,andwecommencedcarryingitintoexecutionthatveryevening.WhatravagesIcommittedonmyfavouriteauthorsinthecourseofmyinterpretationofthem,Iamnotinaconditiontosay,andshouldbeveryunwillingtoknow;butIhadaprofoundfaithinthem,andIhad,tothebestofmybelief,asimple,earnestmannerofnarratingwhatIdidnarrate;andthesequalitieswentalongway.

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