Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Disgrace

           IhadagreedyrelishforafewvolumesofVoyagesandTravelsIforgetwhat,nowthatwereonthoseshelves;andfordaysanddaysIcanremembertohavegoneaboutmyregionofourhouse,armedwiththecentre-pieceoutofanoldsetofboot-treestheperfectrealizationofCaptainSomebody,oftheRoyalBritishNavy,indangerofbeingbesetbysavages,andresolvedtosellhislifeatagreatprice.TheCaptainneverlostdignity,fromhavinghisearsboxedwiththeLatinGrammar.Idid;buttheCaptainwasaCaptainandahero,indespiteofallthegrammarsofallthelanguagesintheworld,deadoralive.

           Thiswasmyonlyandmyconstantcomfort.WhenIthinkofit,thepicturealwaysrisesinmymind,ofasummerevening,theboysatplayinthechurchyard,andIsittingonmybed,readingasifforlife.Everybarnintheneighbourhood,everystoneinthechurch,andeveryfootofthechurchyard,hadsomeassociationofitsown,inmymind,connectedwiththesebooks,andstoodforsomelocalitymadefamousinthem.IhaveseenTomPipesgoclimbingupthechurch-steeple;IhavewatchedStrap,withtheknapsackonhisback,stoppingtoresthimselfuponthewicket-gate;andIknowthatCommodoreTrunnionheldthatclubwithMr.Pickle,intheparlourofourlittlevillagealehouse.

           Thereadernowunderstands,aswellasIdo,whatIwaswhenIcametothatpointofmyyouthfulhistorytowhichIamnowcomingagain.

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