David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (good novels to read in english .TXT) 📕
Description
Like many of Dickens’ works, David Copperfield was published serially, then as a complete novel for the first time in 1850. Dickens himself thought of it as his favorite novel, writing in the preface that of all his works Copperfield was his favorite child. This isn’t surprising, considering that many of the events in the novel are semi-autobiographical accounts from Dickens’ own life.
In David Copperfield we follow the life of the titular character as he makes a life for himself in England. He finds himself in the care of a cold stepfather who sends him to boarding school, and from there embarks on a journey filled with characters and events that can only be called “Dickensian” in their colorful and just-barely-probable portrayals.
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- Author: Charles Dickens
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I was unwilling to damp my good friend’s confidence, and therefore assented. After a little further conversation, we went round to the chandler’s shop, to enlist Peggotty; Traddles declining to pass the evening with me, both because he endured the liveliest apprehensions that his property would be bought by somebody else before he could repurchase it, and because it was the evening he always devoted to writing to the dearest girl in the world.
I never shall forget him peeping round the corner of the street in Tottenham Court Road, while Peggotty was bargaining for the precious articles; or his agitation when she came slowly towards us after vainly offering a price, and was hailed by the relenting broker, and went back again. The end of the negotiation was, that she bought the property on tolerably easy terms, and Traddles was transported with pleasure.
“I am very much obliged to you, indeed,” said Traddles, on hearing it was to be sent to where he lived, that night. “If I might ask one other favour, I hope you would not think it absurd, Copperfield?”
I said beforehand, certainly not.
“Then if you would be good enough,” said Traddles to Peggotty, “to get the flowerpot now, I think I should like (it being Sophy’s, Copperfield) to carry it home myself!”
Peggotty was glad to get it for him, and he overwhelmed her with thanks, and went his way up Tottenham Court Road, carrying the flowerpot affectionately in his arms, with one of the most delighted expressions of countenance I ever saw.
We then turned back towards my chambers. As the shops had charms for Peggotty which I never knew them possess in the same degree for anybody else, I sauntered easily along, amused by her staring in at the windows, and waiting for her as often as she chose. We were thus a good while in getting to the Adelphi.
On our way upstairs, I called her attention to the sudden disappearance of Mrs. Crupp’s pitfalls, and also to the prints of recent footsteps. We were both very much surprised, coming higher up, to find my outer door standing open (which I had shut) and to hear voices inside.
We looked at one another, without knowing what to make of this, and went into the sitting room. What was my amazement to find, of all people upon earth, my aunt there, and Mr. Dick! My aunt sitting on a quantity of luggage, with her two birds before her, and her cat on her knee, like a female Robinson Crusoe, drinking tea. Mr. Dick leaning thoughtfully on a great kite, such as we had often been out together to fly, with more luggage piled about him!
“My dear aunt!” cried I. “Why, what an unexpected pleasure!”
We cordially embraced; and Mr. Dick and I cordially shook hands; and Mrs. Crupp, who was busy making tea, and could not be too attentive, cordially said she had knowed well as Mr. Copperfull would have his heart in his mouth, when he see his dear relations.
“Holloa!” said my aunt to Peggotty, who quailed before her awful presence. “How are you?”
“You remember my aunt, Peggotty?” said I.
“For the love of goodness, child,” exclaimed my aunt, “don’t call the woman by that South Sea Island name! If she married and got rid of it, which was the best thing she could do, why don’t you give her the benefit of the change? What’s your name now—P.?” said my aunt, as a compromise for the obnoxious appellation.
“Barkis, ma’am,” said Peggotty, with a curtsey.
“Well! That’s human,” said my aunt. “It sounds less as if you wanted a missionary. How d’ye do, Barkis? I hope you’re well?”
Encouraged by these gracious words, and by my aunt’s extending her hand, Barkis came forward, and took the hand, and curtseyed her acknowledgements.
“We are older than we were, I see,” said my aunt. “We have only met each other once before, you know. A nice business we made of it then! Trot, my dear, another cup.”
I handed it dutifully to my aunt, who was in her usual inflexible state of figure; and ventured a remonstrance with her on the subject of her sitting on a box.
“Let me draw the sofa here, or the easy-chair, aunt,” said I. “Why should you be so uncomfortable?”
“Thank you, Trot,” replied my aunt, “I prefer to sit upon my property.” Here my aunt looked hard at Mrs. Crupp, and observed, “We needn’t trouble you to wait, ma’am.”
“Shall I put a little more tea in the pot afore I go, ma’am?” said Mrs. Crupp.
“No, I thank you, ma’am,” replied my aunt.
“Would you let me fetch another pat of butter, ma’am?” said Mrs. Crupp. “Or would you be persuaded to try a new-laid hegg? or should I brile a rasher? Ain’t there nothing I could do for your dear aunt, Mr. Copperfull?”
“Nothing, ma’am,” returned my aunt. “I shall do very well, I thank you.”
Mrs. Crupp, who had been incessantly smiling to express sweet temper, and incessantly holding her head on one side, to express a general feebleness of constitution, and incessantly rubbing her hands, to express a desire to be of service to all deserving objects, gradually smiled herself, one-sided herself, and rubbed herself, out of the room. “Dick!” said my aunt. “You know what I told you about timeservers and wealth-worshippers?”
Mr. Dick—with rather a scared look, as if he had forgotten it—returned a hasty answer in the affirmative.
“Mrs. Crupp is one of them,” said my aunt. “Barkis, I’ll trouble you to look after the tea, and let me have another cup, for I don’t fancy that woman’s pouring-out!”
I knew my aunt sufficiently well to know that she had something of importance on her mind, and that there was far more matter in this arrival than a stranger might have supposed. I noticed how her eye lighted on me, when she thought my attention otherwise occupied; and what a curious process of hesitation appeared to be going on within her, while she preserved her
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