Дэвид Копперфильд

I have a Memorable Birthday

           ‘AsIhavegotmybreathnow,IthinkI’llmeasurethisyoungscholar.Wouldyouwalkintotheshop,MasterCopperfield?’

           IprecededMr.Omer,incompliancewithhisrequest;andaftershowingmearollofclothwhichhesaidwasextrasuper,andtoogoodmourningforanythingshortofparents,hetookmyvariousdimensions,andputthemdowninabook.Whilehewasrecordingthemhecalledmyattentiontohisstockintrade,andtocertainfashionswhichhesaidhad‘justcomeup’,andtocertainotherfashionswhichhesaidhad‘justgoneout’.

           ‘Andbythatsortofthingweveryoftenlosealittlemintofmoney,’saidMr.Omer.‘Butfashionsarelikehumanbeings.Theycomein,nobodyknowswhen,why,orhow;andtheygoout,nobodyknowswhen,why,orhow.Everythingislikelife,inmyopinion,ifyoulookatitinthatpointofview.’

           Iwastoosorrowfultodiscussthequestion,whichwouldpossiblyhavebeenbeyondmeunderanycircumstances;andMr.Omertookmebackintotheparlour,breathingwithsomedifficultyontheway.

           Hethencalleddownalittlebreak-neckrangeofstepsbehindadoor:‘Bringupthatteaandbread-and-butter!’which,aftersometime,duringwhichIsatlookingaboutmeandthinking,andlisteningtothestitchingintheroomandthetunethatwasbeinghammeredacrosstheyard,appearedonatray,andturnedouttobeforme.

           ‘Ihavebeenacquaintedwithyou,’saidMr.

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