School began in earnest next day. A profound impression was madeupon me, I remember, by the roar of voices in the schoolroom suddenlybecoming hushed as death when Mr. Creakle entered after breakfast, andstood in the doorway looking round upon us like a giant in a story-booksurveying his captives.

Tungay stood at Mr. Creakle's elbow. He had no occasion, I thought,to cry out 'Silence!' so ferociously, for the boys were all struckspeechless and motionless.

Mr. Creakle was seen to speak, and Tungay was heard, to this effect.

'Now, boys, this is a new half. Take care what you're about, in this newhalf. Come fresh up to the lessons, I advise you, for I come fresh upto the punishment. I won't flinch. It will be of no use your rubbingyourselves; you won't rub the marks out that I shall give you. Now getto work, every boy!'

When this dreadful exordium was over, and Tungay had stumped out again,Mr. Creakle came to where I sat, and told me that if I were famous forbiting, he was famous for biting, too. He then showed me the cane, andasked me what I thought of THAT, for a tooth? Was it a sharp tooth, hey?Was it a double tooth, hey? Had it a deep prong, hey? Did it bite, hey?Did it bite? At every question he gave me a fleshy cut with it that mademe writhe; so I was very soon made free of Salem House (as Steerforthsaid), and was very soon in tears also.

Not that I mean to say these were special marks of distinction,which only I received. On the contrary, a large majority of the boys(especially the smaller ones) were visited with similar instancesof notice, as Mr. Creakle made the round of the schoolroom. Half theestablishment was writhing and crying, before the day's work began; andhow much of it had writhed and cried before the day's work was over, Iam really afraid to recollect, lest I should seem to exaggerate.

I should think there never can have been a man who enjoyed hisprofession more than Mr. Creakle did. He had a delight in cutting atthe boys, which was like the satisfaction of a craving appetite. I amconfident that he couldn't resist a chubby boy, especially; that therewas a fascination in such a subject, which made him restless in hismind, until he had scored and marked him for the day. I was chubbymyself, and ought to know. I am sure when I think of the fellow now, myblood rises against him with the disinterested indignation I shouldfeel if I could have known all about him without having ever been in hispower; but it rises hotly, because I know him to have been an incapablebrute, who had no more right to be possessed of the great trust he held,than to be Lord High Admiral, or Commander-in-Chief--in either ofwhich capacities it is probable that he would have done infinitely lessmischief.

Miserable little propitiators of a remorseless Idol, how abject we wereto him! What a launch in life I think it now, on looking back, to be somean and servile to a man of such parts and pretensions!

Here I sit at the desk again, watching his eye--humbly watching his eye,as he rules a ciphering-book for another victim whose hands have justbeen flattened by that identical ruler, and who is trying to wipe thesting out with a pocket-handkerchief. I have plenty to do. I don't watchhis eye in idleness, but because I am morbidly attracted to it, in adread desire to know what he will do next, and whether it will be myturn to suffer, or somebody else's. A lane of small boys beyond me, withthe same interest in his eye, watch it too. I think he knows it,though he pretends he don't. He makes dreadful mouths as he rules theciphering-book; and now he throws his eye sideways down our lane, and weall droop over our books and tremble. A moment afterwards we are againeyeing him. An unhappy culprit, found guilty of imperfect exercise,approaches at his command. The culprit falters excuses, and professes adetermination to do better tomorrow. Mr. Creakle cuts a joke before hebeats him, and we laugh at it,--miserable little dogs, we laugh, withour visages as white as ashes, and our hearts sinking into our boots.

Here I sit at the desk again, on a drowsy summer afternoon. A buzz andhum go up around me, as if the boys were so many bluebottles. A cloggysensation of the lukewarm fat of meat is upon me (we dined an hour ortwo ago), and my head is as heavy as so much lead. I would give theworld to go to sleep. I sit with my eye on Mr. Creakle, blinking at himlike a young owl; when sleep overpowers me for a minute, he still loomsthrough my slumber, ruling those ciphering-books, until he softly comesbehind me and wakes me to plainer perception of him, with a red ridgeacross my back.

Here I am in the playground, with my eye still fascinated by him, thoughI can't see him. The window at a little distance from which I know he ishaving his dinner, stands for him, and I eye that instead. If he showshis face near it, mine assumes an imploring and submissive expression.If he looks out through the glass, the boldest boy (Steerforth excepted)stops in the middle of a shout or yell, and becomes contemplative. Oneday, Traddles (the most unfortunate boy in the world) breaks that windowaccidentally, with a ball. I shudder at this moment with the tremendoussensation of seeing it done, and feeling that the ball has bounded on toMr. Creakle's sacred head.

Poor Traddles! In a tight sky-blue suit that made his arms and legs likeGerman sausages, or roly-poly puddings, he was the merriest and mostmiserable of all the boys. He was always being caned--I think he wascaned every day that half-year, except one holiday Monday when he wasonly ruler'd on both hands--and was always going to write to his uncleabout it, and never did. After laying his head on the desk for a littlewhile, he would cheer up, somehow, begin to laugh again, and drawskeletons all over his slate, before his eyes were dry. I used at firstto wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons; and for sometime looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by thosesymbols of mortality that caning couldn't last for ever. But I believehe only did it because they were easy, and didn't want any features.

He was very honourable, Traddles was, and held it as a solemn dutyin the boys to stand by one another. He suffered for this on severaloccasions; and particularly once, when Steerforth laughed in church,and the Beadle thought it was Traddles, and took him out. I see him now,going away in custody, despised by the congregation. He never saidwho was the real offender, though he smarted for it next day, and wasimprisoned so many hours that he came forth with a whole churchyard-fullof skeletons swarming all over his Latin Dictionary. But he had hisreward. Steerforth said there was nothing of the sneak in Traddles, andwe all felt that to be the highest praise. For my part, I could havegone through a good deal (though I was much less brave than Traddles,and nothing like so old) to have won such a recompense.

To see Steerforth walk to church before us, arm-in-arm with MissCreakle, was one of the great sights of my life. I didn't think MissCreakle equal to little Em'ly in point of beauty, and I didn't loveher (I didn't dare); but I thought her a young lady of extraordinaryattractions, and in point of gentility not to be surpassed. WhenSteerforth, in white trousers, carried her parasol for her, I felt proudto know him; and believed that she could not choose but adore him withall her heart. Mr. Sharp and Mr. Mell were both notable personages in myeyes; but Steerforth was to them what the sun was to two stars.

Steerforth continued his protection of me, and proved a very usefulfriend; since nobody dared to annoy one whom he honoured with hiscountenance. He couldn't--or at all events he didn't--defend me from Mr.Creakle, who was very severe with me; but whenever I had been treatedworse than usual, he always told me that I wanted a little of his pluck,and that he wouldn't have stood it himself; which I felt he intendedfor encouragement, and considered to be very kind of him. There was oneadvantage, and only one that I know of, in Mr. Creakle's severity. Hefound my placard in his way when he came up or down behind the form onwhich I sat, and wanted to make a cut at me in passing; for this reasonit was soon taken off, and I saw it no more.

An accidental circumstance cemented the intimacy between Steerforthand me, in a manner that inspired me with great pride and satisfaction,though it sometimes led to inconvenience. It happened on one occasion,when he was doing me the honour of talking to me in the playground, thatI hazarded the observation that something or somebody--I forget whatnow--was like something or somebody in Peregrine Pickle. He said nothingat the time; but when I was going to bed at night, asked me if I had gotthat book?

I told him no, and explained how it was that I had read it, and allthose other books of which I have made mention.

'And do you recollect them?' Steerforth said.

'Oh yes,' I replied; I had a good memory, and I believed I recollectedthem very well.

'Then I tell you what, young Copperfield,' said Steerforth, 'youshall tell 'em to me. I can't get to sleep very early at night, and Igenerally wake rather early in the morning. We'll go over 'em one afteranother. We'll make some regular Arabian Nights of it.'

I felt extremely flattered by this arrangement, and we commencedcarrying it into execution that very evening. What ravages I committedon my favourite authors in the course of my interpretation of them, I amnot in a condition to say, and should be very unwilling to know; butI had a profound faith in them, and I had, to the best of my belief,a simple, earnest manner of narrating what I did narrate; and thesequalities went a long way.

The drawback was, that I was often sleepy at night, or out of spiritsand indisposed to resume the story; and then it was rather hard work,and it must be done; for to disappoint or to displease Steerforth was ofcourse out of the question. In the morning, too, when I felt weary, andshould have enjoyed another hour's repose very much, it was a tiresomething to be roused, like the Sultana Scheherazade, and forced into along story before the getting-up bell rang; but Steerforth was resolute;and as he explained to me, in return, my sums and exercises, andanything in my tasks that was too hard for me, I was no loser by thetransaction. Let me do myself justice, however. I was moved by nointerested or selfish motive, nor was I moved by fear of him. I admiredand loved him, and his approval was return enough. It was so precious tome that I look back on these trifles, now, with an aching heart.

Steerforth was considerate, too; and showed his consideration, inone particular instance, in an unflinching manner that was a littletantalizing, I suspect, to poor Traddles and the rest. Peggotty'spromised letter--what a comfortable letter it was!--arrived before'the half' was many weeks old; and with it a cake in a perfect nestof oranges, and two bottles of cowslip wine. This treasure, as in dutybound, I laid at the feet of Steerforth, and begged him to dispense.

'Now, I'll tell you what, young Copperfield,' said he: 'the wine shallbe kept to wet your whistle when you are story-telling.'

I blushed at the idea, and begged him, in my modesty, not to think ofit. But he said he had observed I was sometimes hoarse--a little roopywas his exact expression--and it should be, every drop, devoted to thepurpose he had mentioned. Accordingly, it was locked up in his box, anddrawn off by himself in a phial, and administered to me through apiece of quill in the cork, when I was supposed to be in want of arestorative. Sometimes, to make it a more sovereign specific, he was sokind as to squeeze orange juice into it, or to stir it up with ginger,or dissolve a peppermint drop in it; and although I cannot assert thatthe flavour was improved by these experiments, or that it was exactlythe compound one would have chosen for a stomachic, the last thing atnight and the first thing in the morning, I drank it gratefully and wasvery sensible of his attention.

We seem, to me, to have been months over Peregrine, and months more overthe other stories. The institution never flagged for want of a story, Iam certain; and the wine lasted out almost as well as the matter. PoorTraddles--I never think of that boy but with a strange disposition tolaugh, and with tears in my eyes--was a sort of chorus, in general;and affected to be convulsed with mirth at the comic parts, and to beovercome with fear when there was any passage of an alarming characterin the narrative. This rather put me out, very often. It was a greatjest of his, I recollect, to pretend that he couldn't keep his teethfrom chattering, whenever mention was made of an Alguazill in connexionwith the adventures of Gil Blas; and I remember that when Gil Blas metthe captain of the robbers in Madrid, this unlucky joker counterfeitedsuch an ague of terror, that he was overheard by Mr. Creakle, whowas prowling about the passage, and handsomely flogged for disorderlyconduct in the bedroom. Whatever I had within me that was romantic anddreamy, was encouraged by so much story-telling in the dark; and in thatrespect the pursuit may not have been very profitable to me. But thebeing cherished as a kind of plaything in my room, and the consciousnessthat this accomplishment of mine was bruited about among the boys, andattracted a good deal of notice to me though I was the youngest there,stimulated me to exertion. In a school carried on by sheer cruelty,whether it is presided over by a dunce or not, there is not likely tobe much learnt. I believe our boys were, generally, as ignorant a setas any schoolboys in existence; they were too much troubled and knockedabout to learn; they could no more do that to advantage, than any onecan do anything to advantage in a life of constant misfortune, torment,and worry. But my little vanity, and Steerforth's help, urged me onsomehow; and without saving me from much, if anything, in the way ofpunishment, made me, for the time I was there, an exception to thegeneral body, insomuch that I did steadily pick up some crumbs ofknowledge.

In this I was much assisted by Mr. Mell, who had a liking for me thatI am grateful to remember. It always gave me pain to observe thatSteerforth treated him with systematic disparagement, and seldom lostan occasion of wounding his feelings, or inducing others to do so.This troubled me the more for a long time, because I had soon toldSteerforth, from whom I could no more keep such a secret, than I couldkeep a cake or any other tangible possession, about the two old womenMr. Mell had taken me to see; and I was always afraid that Steerforthwould let it out, and twit him with it.

We little thought, any one of us, I dare say, when I ate my breakfastthat first morning, and went to sleep under the shadow of the peacock'sfeathers to the sound of the flute, what consequences would come of theintroduction into those alms-houses of my insignificant person. But thevisit had its unforeseen consequences; and of a serious sort, too, intheir way.

One day when Mr. Creakle kept the house from indisposition, whichnaturally diffused a lively joy through the school, there was a gooddeal of noise in the course of the morning's work. The great relief andsatisfaction experienced by the boys made them difficult to manage; andthough the dreaded Tungay brought his wooden leg in twice or thrice, andtook notes of the principal offenders' names, no great impression wasmade by it, as they were pretty sure of getting into trouble tomorrow,do what they would, and thought it wise, no doubt, to enjoy themselvestoday.

It was, properly, a half-holiday; being Saturday. But as the noise inthe playground would have disturbed Mr. Creakle, and the weather wasnot favourable for going out walking, we were ordered into school in theafternoon, and set some lighter tasks than usual, which were made forthe occasion. It was the day of the week on which Mr. Sharp went out toget his wig curled; so Mr. Mell, who always did the drudgery, whateverit was, kept school by himself. If I could associate the idea of a bullor a bear with anyone so mild as Mr. Mell, I should think of him, inconnexion with that afternoon when the uproar was at its height, as ofone of those animals, baited by a thousand dogs. I recall him bendinghis aching head, supported on his bony hand, over the book on his desk,and wretchedly endeavouring to get on with his tiresome work, amidst anuproar that might have made the Speaker of the House of Commons giddy.Boys started in and out of their places, playing at puss in the cornerwith other boys; there were laughing boys, singing boys, talking boys,dancing boys, howling boys; boys shuffled with their feet, boys whirledabout him, grinning, making faces, mimicking him behind his back andbefore his eyes; mimicking his poverty, his boots, his coat, his mother,everything belonging to him that they should have had consideration for.

'Silence!' cried Mr. Mell, suddenly rising up, and striking his deskwith the book. 'What does this mean! It's impossible to bear it. It'smaddening. How can you do it to me, boys?'

It was my book that he struck his desk with; and as I stood beside him,following his eye as it glanced round the room, I saw the boys all stop,some suddenly surprised, some half afraid, and some sorry perhaps.

Steerforth's place was at the bottom of the school, at the opposite endof the long room. He was lounging with his back against the wall, andhis hands in his pockets, and looked at Mr. Mell with his mouth shut upas if he were whistling, when Mr. Mell looked at him.

'Silence, Mr. Steerforth!' said Mr. Mell.

'Silence yourself,' said Steerforth, turning red. 'Whom are you talkingto?'

'Sit down,' said Mr. Mell.

'Sit down yourself,' said Steerforth, 'and mind your business.'

There was a titter, and some applause; but Mr. Mell was so white, thatsilence immediately succeeded; and one boy, who had darted out behindhim to imitate his mother again, changed his mind, and pretended to wanta pen mended.

'If you think, Steerforth,' said Mr. Mell, 'that I am not acquaintedwith the power you can establish over any mind here'--he laid his hand,without considering what he did (as I supposed), upon my head--'or thatI have not observed you, within a few minutes, urging your juniors on toevery sort of outrage against me, you are mistaken.'

'I don't give myself the trouble of thinking at all about you,' saidSteerforth, coolly; 'so I'm not mistaken, as it happens.'

'And when you make use of your position of favouritism here, sir,'pursued Mr. Mell, with his lip trembling very much, 'to insult agentleman--'

'A what?--where is he?' said Steerforth.

Here somebody cried out, 'Shame, J. Steerforth! Too bad!' It wasTraddles; whom Mr. Mell instantly discomfited by bidding him hold histongue. --'To insult one who is not fortunate in life, sir, and whonever gave you the least offence, and the many reasons for not insultingwhom you are old enough and wise enough to understand,' said Mr. Mell,with his lips trembling more and more, 'you commit a mean and baseaction. You can sit down or stand up as you please, sir. Copperfield, goon.'

'Young Copperfield,' said Steerforth, coming forward up the room,'stop a bit. I tell you what, Mr. Mell, once for all. When you take theliberty of calling me mean or base, or anything of that sort, you arean impudent beggar. You are always a beggar, you know; but when you dothat, you are an impudent beggar.'

I am not clear whether he was going to strike Mr. Mell, or Mr. Mell wasgoing to strike him, or there was any such intention on either side.I saw a rigidity come upon the whole school as if they had been turnedinto stone, and found Mr. Creakle in the midst of us, with Tungay at hisside, and Mrs. and Miss Creakle looking in at the door as if they werefrightened. Mr. Mell, with his elbows on his desk and his face in hishands, sat, for some moments, quite still.

'Mr. Mell,' said Mr. Creakle, shaking him by the arm; and his whisperwas so audible now, that Tungay felt it unnecessary to repeat his words;'you have not forgotten yourself, I hope?'

'No, sir, no,' returned the Master, showing his face, and shaking hishead, and rubbing his hands in great agitation. 'No, sir. No. I haveremembered myself, I--no, Mr. Creakle, I have not forgotten myself, I--Ihave remembered myself, sir. I--I--could wish you had remembered me alittle sooner, Mr. Creakle. It--it--would have been more kind, sir, morejust, sir. It would have saved me something, sir.'

Mr. Creakle, looking hard at Mr. Mell, put his hand on Tungay'sshoulder, and got his feet upon the form close by, and sat upon thedesk. After still looking hard at Mr. Mell from his throne, as heshook his head, and rubbed his hands, and remained in the same state ofagitation, Mr. Creakle turned to Steerforth, and said:

'Now, sir, as he don't condescend to tell me, what is this?'

Steerforth evaded the question for a little while; looking in scorn andanger on his opponent, and remaining silent. I could not help thinkingeven in that interval, I remember, what a noble fellow he was inappearance, and how homely and plain Mr. Mell looked opposed to him.

'What did he mean by talking about favourites, then?' said Steerforth atlength.

'Favourites?' repeated Mr. Creakle, with the veins in his foreheadswelling quickly. 'Who talked about favourites?'

'He did,' said Steerforth.

'And pray, what did you mean by that, sir?' demanded Mr. Creakle,turning angrily on his assistant.

'I meant, Mr. Creakle,' he returned in a low voice, 'as I said; thatno pupil had a right to avail himself of his position of favouritism todegrade me.'

'To degrade YOU?' said Mr. Creakle. 'My stars! But give me leave to askyou, Mr. What's-your-name'; and here Mr. Creakle folded his arms, caneand all, upon his chest, and made such a knot of his brows that hislittle eyes were hardly visible below them; 'whether, when you talkabout favourites, you showed proper respect to me? To me, sir,' said Mr.Creakle, darting his head at him suddenly, and drawing it back again,'the principal of this establishment, and your employer.'

'It was not judicious, sir, I am willing to admit,' said Mr. Mell. 'Ishould not have done so, if I had been cool.'

Here Steerforth struck in.

'Then he said I was mean, and then he said I was base, and then I calledhim a beggar. If I had been cool, perhaps I shouldn't have called him abeggar. But I did, and I am ready to take the consequences of it.'

Without considering, perhaps, whether there were any consequences tobe taken, I felt quite in a glow at this gallant speech. It made animpression on the boys too, for there was a low stir among them, thoughno one spoke a word.

'I am surprised, Steerforth--although your candour does you honour,'said Mr. Creakle, 'does you honour, certainly--I am surprised,Steerforth, I must say, that you should attach such an epithet to anyperson employed and paid in Salem House, sir.'

Steerforth gave a short laugh.

'That's not an answer, sir,' said Mr. Creakle, 'to my remark. I expectmore than that from you, Steerforth.'

If Mr. Mell looked homely, in my eyes, before the handsome boy, it wouldbe quite impossible to say how homely Mr. Creakle looked. 'Let him denyit,' said Steerforth.

'Deny that he is a beggar, Steerforth?' cried Mr. Creakle. 'Why, wheredoes he go a-begging?'

'If he is not a beggar himself, his near relation's one,' saidSteerforth. 'It's all the same.'

He glanced at me, and Mr. Mell's hand gently patted me upon theshoulder. I looked up with a flush upon my face and remorse in my heart,but Mr. Mell's eyes were fixed on Steerforth. He continued to pat mekindly on the shoulder, but he looked at him.

'Since you expect me, Mr. Creakle, to justify myself,' said Steerforth,'and to say what I mean,--what I have to say is, that his mother liveson charity in an alms-house.'

Mr. Mell still looked at him, and still patted me kindly on theshoulder, and said to himself, in a whisper, if I heard right: 'Yes, Ithought so.'

Mr. Creakle turned to his assistant, with a severe frown and labouredpoliteness:

'Now, you hear what this gentleman says, Mr. Mell. Have the goodness, ifyou please, to set him right before the assembled school.'

'He is right, sir, without correction,' returned Mr. Mell, in the midstof a dead silence; 'what he has said is true.'

'Be so good then as declare publicly, will you,' said Mr. Creakle,putting his head on one side, and rolling his eyes round the school,'whether it ever came to my knowledge until this moment?'

'I believe not directly,' he returned.

'Why, you know not,' said Mr. Creakle. 'Don't you, man?'

'I apprehend you never supposed my worldly circumstances to be verygood,' replied the assistant. 'You know what my position is, and alwayshas been, here.'

'I apprehend, if you come to that,' said Mr. Creakle, with his veinsswelling again bigger than ever, 'that you've been in a wrong positionaltogether, and mistook this for a charity school. Mr. Mell, we'll part,if you please. The sooner the better.'

'There is no time,' answered Mr. Mell, rising, 'like the present.'

'Sir, to you!' said Mr. Creakle.

'I take my leave of you, Mr. Creakle, and all of you,' said Mr. Mell,glancing round the room, and again patting me gently on the shoulders.'James Steerforth, the best wish I can leave you is that you may come tobe ashamed of what you have done today. At present I would prefer to seeyou anything rather than a friend, to me, or to anyone in whom I feel aninterest.'

Once more he laid his hand upon my shoulder; and then taking hisflute and a few books from his desk, and leaving the key in it for hissuccessor, he went out of the school, with his property under his arm.Mr. Creakle then made a speech, through Tungay, in which he thankedSteerforth for asserting (though perhaps too warmly) the independenceand respectability of Salem House; and which he wound up by shakinghands with Steerforth, while we gave three cheers--I did not quite knowwhat for, but I supposed for Steerforth, and so joined in them ardently,though I felt miserable. Mr. Creakle then caned Tommy Traddles forbeing discovered in tears, instead of cheers, on account of Mr. Mell'sdeparture; and went back to his sofa, or his bed, or wherever he hadcome from.

We were left to ourselves now, and looked very blank, I recollect, onone another. For myself, I felt so much self-reproach and contrition formy part in what had happened, that nothing would have enabled me to keepback my tears but the fear that Steerforth, who often looked at me, Isaw, might think it unfriendly--or, I should rather say, considering ourrelative ages, and the feeling with which I regarded him, undutiful--ifI showed the emotion which distressed me. He was very angry withTraddles, and said he was glad he had caught it.

Poor Traddles, who had passed the stage of lying with his head upon thedesk, and was relieving himself as usual with a burst of skeletons, saidhe didn't care. Mr. Mell was ill-used.

'Who has ill-used him, you girl?' said Steerforth.

'Why, you have,' returned Traddles.

'What have I done?' said Steerforth.

'What have you done?' retorted Traddles. 'Hurt his feelings, and losthim his situation.'

'His feelings?' repeated Steerforth disdainfully. 'His feelings willsoon get the better of it, I'll be bound. His feelings are not likeyours, Miss Traddles. As to his situation--which was a precious one,wasn't it?--do you suppose I am not going to write home, and take carethat he gets some money? Polly?'

We thought this intention very noble in Steerforth, whose mother wasa widow, and rich, and would do almost anything, it was said, that heasked her. We were all extremely glad to see Traddles so put down,and exalted Steerforth to the skies: especially when he told us, as hecondescended to do, that what he had done had been done expressly forus, and for our cause; and that he had conferred a great boon upon usby unselfishly doing it. But I must say that when I was going on with astory in the dark that night, Mr. Mell's old flute seemed more than onceto sound mournfully in my ears; and that when at last Steerforth wastired, and I lay down in my bed, I fancied it playing so sorrowfullysomewhere, that I was quite wretched.

I soon forgot him in the contemplation of Steerforth, who, in an easyamateur way, and without any book (he seemed to me to know everything byheart), took some of his classes until a new master was found. The newmaster came from a grammar school; and before he entered on his duties,dined in the parlour one day, to be introduced to Steerforth. Steerforthapproved of him highly, and told us he was a Brick. Without exactlyunderstanding what learned distinction was meant by this, I respectedhim greatly for it, and had no doubt whatever of his superior knowledge:though he never took the pains with me--not that I was anybody--that Mr.Mell had taken.

There was only one other event in this half-year, out of the dailyschool-life, that made an impression upon me which still survives. Itsurvives for many reasons.

One afternoon, when we were all harassed into a state of dire confusion,and Mr. Creakle was laying about him dreadfully, Tungay came in, andcalled out in his usual strong way: 'Visitors for Copperfield!'

A few words were interchanged between him and Mr. Creakle, as, who thevisitors were, and what room they were to be shown into; and then I, whohad, according to custom, stood up on the announcement being made, andfelt quite faint with astonishment, was told to go by the back stairsand get a clean frill on, before I repaired to the dining-room. Theseorders I obeyed, in such a flutter and hurry of my young spirits asI had never known before; and when I got to the parlour door, and thethought came into my head that it might be my mother--I had only thoughtof Mr. or Miss Murdstone until then--I drew back my hand from the lock,and stopped to have a sob before I went in.

At first I saw nobody; but feeling a pressure against the door, I lookedround it, and there, to my amazement, were Mr. Peggotty and Ham, duckingat me with their hats, and squeezing one another against the wall. Icould not help laughing; but it was much more in the pleasure of seeingthem, than at the appearance they made. We shook hands in a verycordial way; and I laughed and laughed, until I pulled out mypocket-handkerchief and wiped my eyes.

Mr. Peggotty (who never shut his mouth once, I remember, during thevisit) showed great concern when he saw me do this, and nudged Ham tosay something.

'Cheer up, Mas'r Davy bor'!' said Ham, in his simpering way. 'Why, howyou have growed!'

'Am I grown?' I said, drying my eyes. I was not crying at anythingin particular that I know of; but somehow it made me cry, to see oldfriends.

'Growed, Mas'r Davy bor'? Ain't he growed!' said Ham.

'Ain't he growed!' said Mr. Peggotty.

They made me laugh again by laughing at each other, and then we allthree laughed until I was in danger of crying again.

'Do you know how mama is, Mr. Peggotty?' I said. 'And how my dear, dear,old Peggotty is?'

'Oncommon,' said Mr. Peggotty.

'And little Em'ly, and Mrs. Gummidge?'

'On--common,' said Mr. Peggotty.

There was a silence. Mr. Peggotty, to relieve it, took two prodigiouslobsters, and an enormous crab, and a large canvas bag of shrimps, outof his pockets, and piled them up in Ham's arms.

'You see,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'knowing as you was partial to a littlerelish with your wittles when you was along with us, we took theliberty. The old Mawther biled 'em, she did. Mrs. Gummidge biled 'em.Yes,' said Mr. Peggotty, slowly, who I thought appeared to stick to thesubject on account of having no other subject ready, 'Mrs. Gummidge, Ido assure you, she biled 'em.'

I expressed my thanks; and Mr. Peggotty, after looking at Ham, who stoodsmiling sheepishly over the shellfish, without making any attempt tohelp him, said:

'We come, you see, the wind and tide making in our favour, in one of ourYarmouth lugs to Gravesen'. My sister she wrote to me the name of thishere place, and wrote to me as if ever I chanced to come to Gravesen',I was to come over and inquire for Mas'r Davy and give her dooty,humbly wishing him well and reporting of the fam'ly as they was oncommontoe-be-sure. Little Em'ly, you see, she'll write to my sister when I goback, as I see you and as you was similarly oncommon, and so we make itquite a merry-go-rounder.'

I was obliged to consider a little before I understood what Mr. Peggottymeant by this figure, expressive of a complete circle of intelligence. Ithen thanked him heartily; and said, with a consciousness of reddening,that I supposed little Em'ly was altered too, since we used to pick upshells and pebbles on the beach?

'She's getting to be a woman, that's wot she's getting to be,' said Mr.Peggotty. 'Ask HIM.' He meant Ham, who beamed with delight and assentover the bag of shrimps.

'Her pretty face!' said Mr. Peggotty, with his own shining like a light.

'Her learning!' said Ham.

'Her writing!' said Mr. Peggotty. 'Why it's as black as jet! And solarge it is, you might see it anywheres.'

It was perfectly delightful to behold with what enthusiasm Mr. Peggottybecame inspired when he thought of his little favourite. He standsbefore me again, his bluff hairy face irradiating with a joyful love andpride, for which I can find no description. His honest eyes fire up, andsparkle, as if their depths were stirred by something bright. His broadchest heaves with pleasure. His strong loose hands clench themselves,in his earnestness; and he emphasizes what he says with a right arm thatshows, in my pigmy view, like a sledge-hammer.

Ham was quite as earnest as he. I dare say they would have said muchmore about her, if they had not been abashed by the unexpected coming inof Steerforth, who, seeing me in a corner speaking with two strangers,stopped in a song he was singing, and said: 'I didn't know you werehere, young Copperfield!' (for it was not the usual visiting room) andcrossed by us on his way out.

I am not sure whether it was in the pride of having such a friend asSteerforth, or in the desire to explain to him how I came to have such afriend as Mr. Peggotty, that I called to him as he was going away. But Isaid, modestly--Good Heaven, how it all comes back to me this long timeafterwards--!

'Don't go, Steerforth, if you please. These are two Yarmouthboatmen--very kind, good people--who are relations of my nurse, and havecome from Gravesend to see me.'

'Aye, aye?' said Steerforth, returning. 'I am glad to see them. How areyou both?'

There was an ease in his manner--a gay and light manner it was, but notswaggering--which I still believe to have borne a kind of enchantmentwith it. I still believe him, in virtue of this carriage, his animalspirits, his delightful voice, his handsome face and figure, and, foraught I know, of some inborn power of attraction besides (which I thinka few people possess), to have carried a spell with him to which it wasa natural weakness to yield, and which not many persons could withstand.I could not but see how pleased they were with him, and how they seemedto open their hearts to him in a moment.

'You must let them know at home, if you please, Mr. Peggotty,' I said,'when that letter is sent, that Mr. Steerforth is very kind to me, andthat I don't know what I should ever do here without him.'

'Nonsense!' said Steerforth, laughing. 'You mustn't tell them anythingof the sort.'

'And if Mr. Steerforth ever comes into Norfolk or Suffolk, Mr.Peggotty,' I said, 'while I am there, you may depend upon it I shallbring him to Yarmouth, if he will let me, to see your house. You neversaw such a good house, Steerforth. It's made out of a boat!'

'Made out of a boat, is it?' said Steerforth. 'It's the right sort of ahouse for such a thorough-built boatman.'

'So 'tis, sir, so 'tis, sir,' said Ham, grinning. 'You're right, younggen'l'm'n! Mas'r Davy bor', gen'l'm'n's right. A thorough-built boatman!Hor, hor! That's what he is, too!'

Mr. Peggotty was no less pleased than his nephew, though his modestyforbade him to claim a personal compliment so vociferously.

'Well, sir,' he said, bowing and chuckling, and tucking in the endsof his neckerchief at his breast: 'I thankee, sir, I thankee! I do myendeavours in my line of life, sir.'

'The best of men can do no more, Mr. Peggotty,' said Steerforth. He hadgot his name already.

'I'll pound it, it's wot you do yourself, sir,' said Mr. Peggotty,shaking his head, 'and wot you do well--right well! I thankee, sir. I'mobleeged to you, sir, for your welcoming manner of me. I'm rough, sir,but I'm ready--least ways, I hope I'm ready, you unnerstand. My houseain't much for to see, sir, but it's hearty at your service if ever youshould come along with Mas'r Davy to see it. I'm a reg'lar Dodman,I am,' said Mr. Peggotty, by which he meant snail, and this was inallusion to his being slow to go, for he had attempted to go after everysentence, and had somehow or other come back again; 'but I wish you bothwell, and I wish you happy!'

Ham echoed this sentiment, and we parted with them in the heartiestmanner. I was almost tempted that evening to tell Steerforth aboutpretty little Em'ly, but I was too timid of mentioning her name, andtoo much afraid of his laughing at me. I remember that I thought a gooddeal, and in an uneasy sort of way, about Mr. Peggotty having said thatshe was getting on to be a woman; but I decided that was nonsense.

We transported the shellfish, or the 'relish' as Mr. Peggotty hadmodestly called it, up into our room unobserved, and made a great supperthat evening. But Traddles couldn't get happily out of it. He was toounfortunate even to come through a supper like anybody else. He wastaken ill in the night--quite prostrate he was--in consequence of Crab;and after being drugged with black draughts and blue pills, to an extentwhich Demple (whose father was a doctor) said was enough to underminea horse's constitution, received a caning and six chapters of GreekTestament for refusing to confess.

The rest of the half-year is a jumble in my recollection of the dailystrife and struggle of our lives; of the waning summer and the changingseason; of the frosty mornings when we were rung out of bed, and thecold, cold smell of the dark nights when we were rung into bed again; ofthe evening schoolroom dimly lighted and indifferently warmed, and themorning schoolroom which was nothing but a great shivering-machine; ofthe alternation of boiled beef with roast beef, and boiled mutton withroast mutton; of clods of bread-and-butter, dog's-eared lesson-books,cracked slates, tear-blotted copy-books, canings, rulerings,hair-cuttings, rainy Sundays, suet-puddings, and a dirty atmosphere ofink, surrounding all.

I well remember though, how the distant idea of the holidays, afterseeming for an immense time to be a stationary speck, began to cometowards us, and to grow and grow. How from counting months, we came toweeks, and then to days; and how I then began to be afraid that I shouldnot be sent for and when I learnt from Steerforth that I had been sentfor, and was certainly to go home, had dim forebodings that I mightbreak my leg first. How the breaking-up day changed its place fast, atlast, from the week after next to next week, this week, the day aftertomorrow, tomorrow, today, tonight--when I was inside the Yarmouth mail,and going home.

I had many a broken sleep inside the Yarmouth mail, and many anincoherent dream of all these things. But when I awoke at intervals, theground outside the window was not the playground of Salem House, and thesound in my ears was not the sound of Mr. Creakle giving it to Traddles,but the sound of the coachman touching up the horses.