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Updated: June 9, 2025
The woman David Copperfield wanted was Agnes and Dora rolled into one. He had to take them one after the other, which was not so nice. And did he really love Agnes, Mr. Dickens; or merely feel he ought to? Forgive me, but I am doubtful concerning that second marriage of Copperfield's. Come, strictly between ourselves, Mr.
David Copperfield's little wife is called a lap-dog, acts like a lap-dog, and dies like a lap-dog; the lap-dog simile is so much overdone that we are glad to get rid of her, and instead of weeping with Copperfield, we feel disposed to call him a ninny.
And Tom has no time to tell me." "Bring the Latin here." Charles carried his difficulties to Hamish. "It won't come right," repeated he. "Like Mrs. Dora Copperfield's figures, I expect, that wouldn't add up," said Hamish, as he cast his eyes over the exercise-book. "Halloa, young gentleman! what's this! You have been cribbing."
It is almost the only point of disagreement I have with that admirable woman. Not to love a rookery is prima facie evidence against you. I have heard of men who have bought estates because of the rookery, and I have loved them for their beautiful extravagance. I am sure I should have liked David Copperfield's father from that solitary incident recorded of him.
It has no more music in its voice than a tin kettle; but what jollier sound is there on a late February morning than the splendid hubbub of a rookery when the slovenly nests are being built in the naked and swaying branches of the elms? Betsy Trotwood was angry with David Copperfield's father because he called his house Blunderstone Rookery. "Rookery, indeed!" she said.
Copperfield has not a few lesser dramas to represent; but the affair of Steerforth, the affair of Uriah Heep, to name a pair of them, which might have developed and taken command of the scene, fall back into the general picture, becoming incidents in the long rhythm of Copperfield's memory.
"So we have been led to believe," I answered. "Then do you think my uncle will find it out and follow him?" she asked, wringing her hands. "Oh! it is all too terrible. What shall I do?" "Well, if I might be allowed to be like David Copperfield's Mr. Dick, I should be practical, and say 'dine'! I suppose you have had nothing to eat since you left England?" She gave a little wan smile.
I remember readin' how David Copperfield's aunt always used to eat biscuits soaked in port wine before she went to bed. I used to think 'twas dreadful dissipated business and that the old lady must have been ready for bed by the time she got through. You see I always had riz biscuits in mind. A cracker's different; crackers don't soak up much.
Micawber known to Uriah Heep and his mother; which I accordingly did. As they abased themselves before him, Mr. Micawber took a seat, and waved his hand in his most courtly manner. 'Any friend of my friend Copperfield's, said Mr. Micawber, 'has a personal claim upon myself. 'We are too umble, sir, said Mrs. Heep, 'my son and me, to be the friends of Master Copperfield.
Copperfield's letter, will perhaps call upon us. When visiting is better for the happiness of all parties, we are glad to receive visits, and return them. I intimated that my aunt would be proud and delighted to make their acquaintance; though I must say I was not quite sure of their getting on very satisfactorily together.
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