David Copperfield

Chapter 29
Chapter 12 Determined to flee (2)
"My dear Micawber!" exhorted his wife.

"I," replied Mr. Micawber (completely forgetting myself, and resuming a broad smile), "are in the predicament you are seeing now. My advice is: Don't put off till tomorrow what is done today. Delay. A thief who steals time."

"My poor papa's motto," said Mrs. Micawber.

"My dear," said Mr. Micawber, "your father is quite right in his opinion, and I swear I will never slander him. In short, we may never get acquainted like him again." A man, at his age, still has legs that don't need leggings, and can read any print without spectacles. But he applies his motto to our marriage, and it turns out, it's too early , so far it has not been able to make up for that sum of expenses.”

Mr. Micawber squinted at Mrs. Micawber, and added: "I don't regret our marriage. No, my dear." Then he paused for a minute or two.

"A piece of advice of mine, Copperfield," said Mr. Micawber, "you know that an income of twenty pounds a year, and an expenditure of nineteen pounds nineteen and sixpence a year, result in happiness. An income of twenty pounds a year, Spend twenty pounds and sixpence a year, and the result is misery. The flowers wither, the leaves fall, the sun sinks, and—then, in short, you fall forever, as I did."

Mr. Micawber, to make his example more true to life, drank a glass of wine with great pleasure and contentment, and followed the college dance with his mouth.

I, of course, swore strongly to Mr. Micawber that I would take his admonition to heart (which I need not have done), for they did regret me deeply then.The next morning, I saw their family at the bicycle ticket office, and I saw them sitting outside the car, at the back of the car, full of sorrow.

"Master Copperfield," said Mrs. Micawber, "God bless you! I shall never forget all that, and if I could, I would not, you know."

Mr. Micawber said: "Good-bye! I wish you all the best! If, in the course of the years, my miserable fate can be a kind of advice to you, I don't think I occupy other people's space uselessly. If one day (I believe there will be) the opportunity comes, I will try my best to improve your future."

I think when Mrs. Micawber and the children sat in the back of the car and I stood in the road watching them silently, Mrs. Micawber seemed to see through the fog in front of her eyes and see what a little thing I really was .The reason why I think this is because she has a kind face on her face, beckons me to climb up, hugs me, and kisses me like her own child.As soon as I got out of the car they set off, waving their handkerchiefs until I could barely see the family.After a while, they walked away.Only the orphan and I stood in the middle of the road in a daze, then shook hands and said goodbye.She's going back to St. Luke's, I think, and I'm going to do the boring drudgery at the Moore's Warehouse.

But I don't intend to continue to live that kind of life there, never! I made up my mind to flee, and tried to go to the country, to see my only relatives in the world, and to tell my story to my aunt, Miss Bessie.

I have already said that I do not understand how this desperate thought entered my mind.But once that thought is in my head, it becomes a claim, a stronger claim than I'll ever have in my life.Now I can't say whether I believe in a glimmer of success, but I am determined to carry it out.

It was when I was tossing and turning that I couldn't sleep one night, that idea took root in my mind. Since that night, I have thought about my mother's story about my birth thousands of times.In it my aunt comes in and out as a commanding figure.But there was something of my playfulness in her behavior, and some faint encouragement that I could not forget, and I cannot forget my mother's thought of my aunt's soft hands stroking her soft hair.Though it may have been my mother's fancy, and had no basis in fact, I imagined it as a picture, so clear, that the formidable aunt was made kind by the girlish beauty of the mother, which made The whole thing is much softer.Maybe this painting stayed in my heart for a long time, and made my idea of ​​approaching it gradually develop into a belief.

I knew nothing of where Miss Bessie lived, so I wrote a long letter to Peggotty, asking casually if she remembered; (The name of the place is what I said casually), so I want to know if it is this place.I also mentioned that I had one more request, that if she would lend me half a guinea, I would be very obliged when I was able to return it, and I would tell her why I needed the money later.

Peggotty responded promptly, and, as usual, with intense sincerity.Enclosed was a half-guinea (which I fear she must have had trouble getting out of Mr. Baggis's box), and told me that Miss Bessie lived not far from Douglas.But she did not quite know whether Miss Bessie lived in Doubt, or in Hayes, or Sangate, or Folkestone.But one of our buddies, when I asked him, they couldn't figure it out, so I decided to go that weekend.

As I was a very honest boy, and would not leave the Morgue Warehouse with a bad name on my shoulders, I thought it necessary to stay till Saturday night before starting.Moreover, since I had paid a week's wages in advance when I first came, I decided not to go to the accountant's office during the time when I usually get paid.For this reason I borrowed half a guinea from Peggotty, so as not to have to travel.When Saturday night came, we all assembled in the wholesale store, and Dipper, the driver who was always number one, went in first to get the money. I shook the hand of Mick Walker and asked him to tell me when he was getting paid. Mr. Quinn, I'll take the box to Dipper's; then I say my last good-bye to Sapphire Potatoes, and run away.

My suitcase was in the old lodgings across the river, and I wrote on the back of an address card tacked to the wine barrel, "Master David, 'Leave at the Box Office for pickup.'" I wrote The good note was in the pocket, and tied to it when I was about to take out the box; and when I came out of the flat, I looked around to see if anyone could help me get the box to the box office.

There was a long-legged young man, driving a small empty donkey cart, standing by the steeple on Blake Fryer Road. When I passed him, I met his eyes. I see clearly enough to testify”—no doubt, that I offended him.I stopped and said to him, I didn't mean that, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to solicit business.

"What job?" said the long-legged youth.

"Carry the box," I said.

"What box?" said the long-legged young man.

I told him my box was down the street, and I wanted him to have it delivered to the Bike Box Office, at sixpence.

"That's sixpence!" said the long-legged youth, and got into the wagon (it was just a big wooden plate on wheels), and set off to a gallop as fast as I could barely keep up with the donkey.

I don't like this young man's domineering attitude, especially the way he has grass in his mouth when he speaks.But now that the deal has been negotiated, I have no choice but to take him to the house I am about to leave, take out the box and put it on the car. I don't want to tie the piece of paper to the box, because I am afraid that someone from the landlord's family will find out and stop him I.So I told the long-legged youth to stop for a while when he walked behind the walls of the Supreme Court prison.As soon as my words came out of my mouth, he drove the donkey desperately and ran.I ran behind, shouting, and when I caught up with him at the appointed place, I was out of breath.

Because of my extreme excitement and nervousness, when I took out the paper, I also poured out the half guinea from my pocket.To be safe, I put it in my mouth.My hands were shaking desperately, but I tied the slip of paper anyway.At this time, I suddenly felt that my chin was slapped violently by the long-legged young man, and I saw my half guinea fall from his mouth into his hand.

"Okay!" The young man bared his teeth, grabbed my jacket and said, "I sent you to the police station, do you want to escape? You little bastard, go to the police station!"

"Pay me back!" I said in panic, "mind my business!"

"Go to the police station!" said the young man, "you must go to the police station yourself!"

"Please return my suitcase and my money." I cried and yelled.

The young man still replied: "Go to the police station!" At the same time, he brutally drove me towards the donkey, as if the donkey had many similarities with the police station; then he turned around and jumped into the car, sitting on the big box.Talking about going straight to the police station, he ran away with more effort than before.

I tried my best to chase, but I didn't have the strength to shout, even if I did, I didn't dare to shout loudly at the time.Within half a mile, I was almost run over by a car.Now I saw him and now I didn't see him, now I was whipped, now scolded, now stuck in the mire, now got up, now bumped into someone, now bumped into a post.At last, in a surge of panic and rage, and wondering if half London was after me at this moment, I let the young man go off with the iron box and the money.So, panting and crying, I ran non-stop in the direction of Greenwich, which was on the road to Douglas.Carrying what little more than I had brought into the world at my birth (which caused my aunt much unpleasantness), I ran to the hermitage of my great-aunt, Miss Bessie.

(End of this chapter)