Дэвид Копперфильд

I Look About Me, and Make a Discovery

           They’rewittlesanddrinktomelodging,wife,andchildrenreading,writing,andArithmeticsnuff,tobacker,andsleep.’

           ‘Thatain’tasortofmantoseesittingbehindacoach-box,isitthough?’saidWilliaminmyear,ashehandledthereins.

           Iconstruedthisremarkintoanindicationofawishthatheshouldhavemyplace,soIblushinglyofferedtoresignit.

           ‘Well,ifyoudon’tmind,sir,’saidWilliam,‘Ithinkitwouldbemorecorrect.’

           IhavealwaysconsideredthisasthefirstfallIhadinlife.WhenIbookedmyplaceatthecoachofficeIhadhad‘BoxSeat’writtenagainsttheentry,andhadgiventhebook-keeperhalf-a-crown.Iwasgotupinaspecialgreat-coatandshawl,expresslytodohonourtothatdistinguishedeminence;hadglorifiedmyselfuponitagooddeal;andhadfeltthatIwasacredittothecoach.Andhere,intheveryfirststage,Iwassupplantedbyashabbymanwithasquint,whohadnoothermeritthansmellinglikealivery-stables,andbeingabletowalkacrossme,morelikeaflythanahumanbeing,whilethehorseswereatacanter!

           Adistrustofmyself,whichhasoftenbesetmeinlifeonsmalloccasions,whenitwouldhavebeenbetteraway,wasassuredlynotstoppedinitsgrowthbythislittleincidentoutsidetheCanterburycoach.Itwasinvaintotakerefugeingruffnessofspeech.Ispokefromthepitofmystomachfortherestofthejourney,butIfeltcompletelyextinguished,anddreadfullyyoung.

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