Chapter 22 Chapter 18 Recall

Oh my school years!The silent sliding from childhood to youth in my life-that is the invisible and imperceptible progress of my life!When I look back at the flowing water of life—now it has become a barren and dry canal—let me think, are there any traces that can remind me of how it flowed back then? After a while, I was sitting in the church.Every Sunday morning, we all gather in the school first, and then go there together.The smell of the earth, the gloomy air, the feeling of being out of the world of mortals, the sound of the organ through the black and white arched hall and the side hall, all these have become some wings, holding me on a vague dream , making me fly around in those days.

I am no longer the last student in school.In a few months, I surpassed several.However, I feel that the number one student is an outstanding figure, far away from me.He is so high that people are dizzy and unattainable.Agnes said "No," and I said "Yes," and told her that the great man had acquired a great deal of learning, and she thought that even I, a hopeless man, would reach his heights in time. .He was not, like Steerforth, my personal friend and protector of all, but I adored him.I wondered what he would be like when he left Dr. Strong's, and how humanity could keep him from getting a place.

But who was it that suddenly appeared in front of me?This is my dear Miss Shefford. Miss Shefford was a resident student at Mrs. Nightingale's school.I adore Miss Shefford.She was a little girl in a short coat, with a round face and curly fair hair.Girls from Mrs. Nittingall's school also came to church.I can't read my book because I have to read Miss Shefford.When the choir sang, I heard only Miss Shefford's voice.Miss Shefford's name was always on my mind during church - I included her in the royal family.At home, in my own bedroom, I sometimes exclaimed, with a burst of love, "Oh, Miss Shefford!"

For a while I was uncertain about Miss Shepherd's affections, but then, by the mercy of Fate, we met at the dancing school.I got Miss Shefford as my partner.The moment I touched her glove, I felt a shiver go up the right sleeve of my jacket and out through my hair.I never said a warm word to Miss Shefford, but we understood each other.Miss Shefford and I were made for each other. I don't understand why I secretly gave Miss Shefford a dozen Brazilian walnuts as a gift?They don't express love, and they can't be wrapped into a shape. Even if they are placed in the crack of a door, they are difficult to break open, and even if they are opened, they are greasy.But I think this thing is just suitable for Miss Shefford; I also gave Miss Shefford a soft and delicious cake, and a lot of oranges.I kissed Miss Shefford once in the cloakroom, and it was ecstasy!How bitter and indignant I was when I heard the next day the legend that Miss Shefford had been reprimanded by Mrs. Nightingale for walking with her toes turned in!

How could I disown Miss Shefford, who had been part of my life and my dreams?I can't figure it out.But a coldness began to develop between Miss Shefford and myself.I've heard evasive gossip that Miss Shefford herself said she wished I didn't stare at her like that, and that she preferred Jones--preferred Jones!That useless student!The distance between me and Miss Shefford grew wider and wider.Finally, one day, just as Mrs. Nightingale's school was over, Miss Shefford made a funny face as she passed me, and smiled at her companions like that.Everything is a thing of the past.The whole zest of life--it seemed all the same--had ended there; Miss Shefford had retired from the morning service, and she was no longer a member of the royal family.

I gained a higher status in school, and no one bothered me anymore.At that time I had no respect for the girls at Mrs. Nightingale's school, and if they were twice as big and twenty times as beautiful, I would not have liked any of them.I find dance school boring and wonder why the girls don't let us go when they can't dance on their own.I have learned Latin poetry enough to pay attention to shoelaces.Dr. Strong called me a promising young scholar.Mr. Dick was very pleased, and my aunt sent me a guinea by the next post. The shadow of a young butcher appears, like the hooded monster in Macbeth.Who is this young butcher?He terrifies the boys of Canterbury.There is a widespread superstition that his uncanny powers come from the oil of butter on his hair, so that he can stand up to grown men.The young butcher had a broad face, a neck as strong as a bull's, rough and red cheeks, his mind was not clear, and his tongue was always rolling and cursing.The chief function of his tongue was to slander the students of Dr. Strong's school.He openly said that any duel these students demanded, he would fight.He called out some of the students (including me) by name and said he could tie one arm behind his back and beat them with just the other.He attacked young students, hit them on the back of the head while they were unguarded, and followed me on the street in front of everyone to provoke me.For all these reasons, I decided to fight the butcher.

It was a summer night, and I met the butcher in the grass in a swale at a corner as promised.I took with me a group of brave men chosen from among our students, and the butcher took two other butchers, a young tavern-keeper, and a chimney-sweep.The conditions were settled, and the butcher and I stood opposite each other.After a while, the butcher lit ten thousand candles on my left eyebrow.After a while, I didn't know where the wall was, and where I was, I didn't know where anyone else was.The two of us kept fighting, and I couldn't tell which was me and which was the butcher. We hugged each other and rolled back and forth on the grass.Sometimes I see the butcher bleeding and calm; sometimes I see nothing but pant while sitting on my assistant's lap; But it didn't alarm him at all.At last I awoke, dazed, as if from a stupor; and I saw the butcher go out, to be congratulated by the other two butchers, the chimney-sweep, and the tavern-keeper.As he walked, he put on his coat. Seeing this, I believe that he is the winner.

The way I was sent home was miserable.People put slices of beef over my eyes and rubbed them with vinegar and brandy; my mouth was swollen too.For three or four days in a row, I stayed at home, wearing a green patch over my eyes, which was extremely ugly.I should have been bored and bored had Agnes not treated me like a sister, comforted me, read to me, and made the time go by lightly and pleasantly.I have always trusted Agnes 100%, and I told her everything about the butcher and his slander against me. She thought it was only right for me to fight the butcher, but thinking of the duel between me and him, She shuddered.

Unknowingly, the years passed, and the squad leader was no longer Adam, and he hadn't been the squad leader for a long time.Adam had been out of school for so long, and when he came back to see Dr. Strong, no one knew him but me.Adam was about to enter the legal profession as a defense lawyer and put on a wig.I was surprised to find that he was more modest and less ostentatious than I had imagined.He hasn't made a splash in the world yet, and the world seems to go on without him—as far as I know. A gap, a gap through which the endless procession of warriors of poetry and history swaggers--what then?I became the monitor.I looked down at the student below me, condescendingly.Some of their students reminded me of my first arrival, and I was especially kind to them.Back then that little guy didn't seem to be me at all.I recall him as if I were remembering something left behind on the road of life - as if I were remembering something I passed beside him instead of me - as if I were remembering someone else.

Where was the little girl I saw on the first day at Mr. Wickfield's?I never saw her again.In its place is a replica of that portrait that walks up and down the home (no longer an avatar of a child).Agnes, my dear sister--so I called her in my heart--my counselor and friend, was again the goddess of fortune to all who were under the influence of her gentle kindness and self-denial, fully grown. up. My size and appearance have changed, my accumulated knowledge has changed, and what else has I changed?I had a gold watch on a gold chain, a ring on my little finger, a coat with a long back, and a lot of pomade (it's an ugly thing with the ring).Am I in love again?Yes, I adore the eldest of the Larkinses.

Miss Larkins, the eldest, was not a little girl.She was grown up, tall, with a dark complexion and dark eyes.Miss Larkins, the eldest, was not quite a childish chick anymore, because neither was Miss Larkins, the youngest, and the oldest was necessarily three or four years older.Perhaps the eldest, Miss Larkins, was approaching thirty.I'm more passionate about her than normal. Miss Larkins, the eldest, was acquainted with some of the officers.It was very uncomfortable.I saw the officers talking to her in the street.I saw the officers cross the street to meet her as soon as they saw her bonnet and her sister's bonnet (for which she had an apparent preference for bonnets) coming down the pavement.She talked and laughed, as if she was content with it.I spent a lot of time wandering back and forth just to see her.If I could bow to her once a day (as I knew her, knowing Mr. Larkins, I could bow to her), I would be delighted.I have often had the honor of bowing to her.When there was a night ball during the races, I knew Miss Larkins, the eldest, would dance with the officers at the ball.If there is justice in the world, there should be a kind of compensation for the pain I feel. Enthusiasm burns my appetite, enthusiasm makes me wear new silk scarves like a lantern, and if I don't put on my best clothes and clean my shoes again and again, I can't rest in peace.Only then would I seem more worthy of Miss Larkins.Everything that belongs to her, or anything related to her, is precious to me.Mr. Larkins, a gruff old man with a double chin and one immobile eye embedded in his head, seemed amusing to me.Not seeing his daughter, I went where he usually went, and said, "How are you, Mr. Larkins? How are the young Miss Larkins and the family?" That seemed too explicit, I couldn't help but blush. I often think about my age.I'm only seventeen, and seventeen is too young for Miss Larkins, so what does that matter?Besides, I'll be twenty-one soon.Though it grieved me to see the officers go in, or to hear them in the drawing-room where the eldest, Miss Larkins, was playing the harp, I still often wandered outside Mr. Larkins' house. pacing up and down.There were even two or three times when the whole family had gone to sleep, and I wandered about the house in a dispirited, dreamy way, trying to figure out which room was the boudoir of the eldest, Miss Larkins (now I believe , I mistook Mr. Larkins' bedroom for hers); in the hope that there would be a fire there, and that the people gathered there would be paralyzed with fright, so I rushed through the crowd with a ladder, and leaned it against the She went to the window, rescued her by hugging her, and then went back to get other things she left there, and died in the sea of ​​fire like this.I am not generally selfish in love, so I thought that if I could be a man in front of Miss Larkins, I would die without regret. Probably, but not often.At times, visions of light rose before my eyes.When I get dressed (a thing that takes two hours) to go to the Larkins' house for the big ball (a three-week wait), I feed my fantasies with optimistic imaginations .I imagined that I mustered up the courage to propose to Miss Larkins.I imagined Miss Larkins laying her head on my shoulder and saying, "Oh, Mr. Copperfield, can I believe my ears?" I imagined Mr. Larkins waiting for me the next morning, saying to me: " My dear Copperfield, my daughter has told me all. There is no harm in being young, here is twenty thousand pounds. I wish you happiness!" I imagined my aunt's mercy and blessing for us; Mr. Dick and Strong Doctors come to the wedding.I believe—I mean: I believe when I think about it—that I'm a very reasonable person, and I'm not crazy, but that's what I've always imagined. I came to the charming house, with lights, talk, music, flowers, officers (it made me sad to see them), and Miss Larkins, the oldest, a beautiful blinding flame.She was wearing a blue dress with blue flowers in her hair - blue forget-me-nots - as if she really needed to wear them!This is the first real adult prom I've ever been invited to, and I feel a little uncomfortable because I don't seem to belong to any circle, and no one has anything to say about me, except for Mr. Larkins asking about my schoolmates , and he doesn't have to, I'm not out there to make a fool of myself.I stood at the door, staring straight at the goddess in my heart to feast my eyes.After some time she came - she was the eldest Miss Larkins! — asked me enthusiastically if I wanted to dance. I bowed and stammered, "Dance with you, Miss Larkins." "Aren't you going to dance with others?" she asked again. "I don't want to dance with other people." Miss Larkins laughed, blushed too (I think she did), and said: "Then wait for the next song, I'm very happy." "Time's up." I thought, this must be a waltz," she said hesitantly when I went to invite Miss Larkins, "Can you waltz?"If you won't, Captain Bailey—" But I could waltz (and pretty well), so I took Miss Larkins away.I took Miss Larkins away from Captain Bailey with great solemnity.No doubt Captain Bailey was upset, but that had nothing to do with me.I have been depressed too.I waltzed with the oldest Miss Larkins!I don't know where I am, what kind of world I am in, and I don't know the passage of time.All I know is that I'm swimming around with a blue angel, and I'm intoxicated and happy.I took her swimming until I found myself resting on a couch in a small room with her.She complimented me on a flower in my buttonhole (a pink camellia, half a crown).I gave her the flowers and said: "I'll ask a high price for it, Miss Larkins." "Really? What is it?" asked Miss Larkins. "A flower of yours I shall cherish as a miser cherishes his gold." "You are a bold boy," said Miss Larkins. "Here you are." She didn't look annoyed when she gave me the flowers; I put them to my mouth and then put them in my arms.Miss Larkins smiled and put her hand in my arm and said, "Hey, now take me back to Captain Bailey." While I was enjoying this pleasant waltz and meeting, she came to me on her arm with a man past middle age, not at all handsome, who had been playing cards all night.Miss Larkins said: "Oh! Here is my bold friend! Mr. Chessel wants to make your acquaintance, Mr. Copperfield." I immediately felt that he was a friend of this family, and I felt very unhappy. "I admire your taste, sir," said Mr. Chessel. "Your taste is admirable. I don't think you're much interested in hoops, a wine-making plant, but I grow a lot of them." Hope; if you would come to our part--that is, Ashford's--to see our place, we'd be glad too, and stay as long as you like. I thanked him warmly and shook his hand.I feel like I'm in a blissful dream.Once again I waltzed with the oldest Miss Larkins - she said I was a good dancer!I couldn't express how happy I was when I came home, and all night I imagined: I have been waltzing my dear blue goddess on my arm.For the next few days I was filled with happy memories; but I did not meet her in the street, nor did I see her when I visited her house.I can only comfort my disappointed heart with that withered flower - that sacred token. "Troughwood," said Agnes one day after supper, "who do you think is getting married tomorrow? Someone you admire." "I suppose it can't be you, Agnes?" "Not me!" she said cheerfully, looking up from the sheet music she was looking down at. "Did you hear what he said, Pa? It was Miss Larkins, the eldest." "Marry—marry Captain Bailey?" I asked with the last of my strength. "No, not to any captain. To Mr. Chessel, a man of hope." For about a week or two I was very depressed, I took off the rings, put on the worst clothes, stopped using pomade, and kept sighing at the withered flowers of the former Miss Larkins.At that time, I was also tired of this kind of life, and when the butcher provoked me again, I threw the flower and went to a duel with the butcher, and finally I defeated him. Looking back on it today, that, plus the fact that I put on my ring again and used pomade sparingly again, are the footprints of my 17th birthday.