"I am David Copperfield, of Blunderstone, in Suffolk--where you came, on
the night when I was born, and saw my dear mama. I have been very unhappy
since she died. I have been slighted and taught nothing, and thrown upon
myself, and put to work not fit for me. It made me run away to you. I was
robbed at first setting out, and have walked all the way, and have never
slept in a bed since I began the journey." Here my self-support gave way
all at once, and I broke into a passion of crying.
My aunt sat on the gravel, staring at me, until I began to cry, when she
got up in a great hurry, collared me, and took me into the parlour. Her
first proceeding there was to unlock a tall press, bring out several
bottles, and pour some of the contents of each into my mouth. I think they
must have been taken out at random, for I am sure I tasted aniseed water,
anchovy sauce, and salad dressing. Then she put me on a sofa with a shawl
under my head, and a handkerchief under my feet, lest I should soil the
cover, and then, sitting down so I could not see her face, she ejaculated
"Mercy on us!" at regular intervals.
After a time she rang a bell, and a grey-headed, florid old gentleman,
called Mr. Dick, who had the appearance of a grown-up boy, and who lived
with my aunt, appeared. When my aunt asked his opinion about what to do
with me, his advice was to wash me.
This Janet, the maid, was preparing to do, when suddenly my aunt became,
in one moment, rigid with indignation, and cried out, "Janet! Donkeys!"
Upon which, Janet came running as if the house were in flames, and darted
out on a little piece of green in front, to warn off two donkeys, lady
ridden, while my aunt seized the bridle of a third animal, laden with a
child, led him from the sacred spot, and boxed the ears of the unlucky
urchin in attendance.
To this hour I do not know whether my aunt had any lawful right of way
over that patch of green, but she had settled it in her own mind that she
had, and it was all the same to her. The passage of a donkey over that
spot was the one great outrage of her life. In whatever occupation or
conversation she was engaged, a donkey turned the current of her ideas,
and she was upon him straight. Jugs of water were kept in secret places
ready to be discharged on the offenders, sticks were laid in ambush behind
the doors; sallies were made at all hours, and incessant war prevailed,
which was perhaps an agreeable excitement to the donkey boys.
The bath was a great comfort, for I began to feel acute pains in my limbs,
and was so tired that I could scarcely keep awake for five minutes
together. Enrobed in clothes belonging to Mr. Dick, and tied up in great
shawls, I fell asleep, on the sofa, and only awoke in time to dine off a
roast fowl and pudding, while my aunt asked me a number of questions, and
spoke of my mother and Peggotty, and in the afternoon we talked again and
there was another alarm of Donkeys.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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