I received one morning by the post, the following letter, datedCanterbury, and addressed to me at Doctor's Commons; which I read withsome surprise:

'MY DEAR SIR,

'Circumstances beyond my individual control have, for a considerablelapse of time, effected a severance of that intimacy which, in thelimited opportunities conceded to me in the midst of my professionalduties, of contemplating the scenes and events of the past, tinged bythe prismatic hues of memory, has ever afforded me, as it ever mustcontinue to afford, gratifying emotions of no common description. Thisfact, my dear sir, combined with the distinguished elevation to whichyour talents have raised you, deters me from presuming to aspire tothe liberty of addressing the companion of my youth, by the familiarappellation of Copperfield! It is sufficient to know that the name towhich I do myself the honour to refer, will ever be treasured amongthe muniments of our house (I allude to the archives connected with ourformer lodgers, preserved by Mrs. Micawber), with sentiments of personalesteem amounting to affection.

'It is not for one, situated, through his original errors and afortuitous combination of unpropitious events, as is the foundered Bark(if he may be allowed to assume so maritime a denomination), whonow takes up the pen to address you--it is not, I repeat, for oneso circumstanced, to adopt the language of compliment, or ofcongratulation. That he leaves to abler and to purer hands.

'If your more important avocations should admit of your ever tracingthese imperfect characters thus far--which may be, or may not be, ascircumstances arise--you will naturally inquire by what object am Iinfluenced, then, in inditing the present missive? Allow me to say thatI fully defer to the reasonable character of that inquiry, and proceedto develop it; premising that it is not an object of a pecuniary nature.

'Without more directly referring to any latent ability that maypossibly exist on my part, of wielding the thunderbolt, or directingthe devouring and avenging flame in any quarter, I may be permittedto observe, in passing, that my brightest visions are for everdispelled--that my peace is shattered and my power of enjoymentdestroyed--that my heart is no longer in the right place--and that I nomore walk erect before my fellow man. The canker is in the flower.The cup is bitter to the brim. The worm is at his work, and will soondispose of his victim. The sooner the better. But I will not digress.'Placed in a mental position of peculiar painfulness, beyond theassuaging reach even of Mrs. Micawber's influence, though exercised inthe tripartite character of woman, wife, and mother, it is my intentionto fly from myself for a short period, and devote a respite ofeight-and-forty hours to revisiting some metropolitan scenes of pastenjoyment. Among other havens of domestic tranquillity and peace ofmind, my feet will naturally tend towards the King's Bench Prison. Instating that I shall be (D. V.) on the outside of the south wall ofthat place of incarceration on civil process, the day after tomorrow,at seven in the evening, precisely, my object in this epistolarycommunication is accomplished.

'I do not feel warranted in soliciting my former friend Mr. Copperfield,or my former friend Mr. Thomas Traddles of the Inner Temple, if thatgentleman is still existent and forthcoming, to condescend to meet me,and renew (so far as may be) our past relations of the olden time. Iconfine myself to throwing out the observation, that, at the hour andplace I have indicated, may be found such ruined vestiges as yet

'Remain, 'Of 'A 'Fallen Tower, 'WILKINS MICAWBER.

'P.S. It may be advisable to superadd to the above, the statement thatMrs. Micawber is not in confidential possession of my intentions.'

I read the letter over several times. Making due allowance for Mr.Micawber's lofty style of composition, and for the extraordinary relishwith which he sat down and wrote long letters on all possible andimpossible occasions, I still believed that something important layhidden at the bottom of this roundabout communication. I put it down,to think about it; and took it up again, to read it once more; andwas still pursuing it, when Traddles found me in the height of myperplexity.

'My dear fellow,' said I, 'I never was better pleased to see you. Youcome to give me the benefit of your sober judgement at a most opportunetime. I have received a very singular letter, Traddles, from Mr.Micawber.'

'No?' cried Traddles. 'You don't say so? And I have received one fromMrs. Micawber!'

With that, Traddles, who was flushed with walking, and whose hair, underthe combined effects of exercise and excitement, stood on end as if hesaw a cheerful ghost, produced his letter and made an exchange with me.I watched him into the heart of Mr. Micawber's letter, and returned theelevation of eyebrows with which he said "'Wielding the thunderbolt,or directing the devouring and avenging flame!" Bless me,Copperfield!'--and then entered on the perusal of Mrs. Micawber'sepistle.

It ran thus:

'My best regards to Mr. Thomas Traddles, and if he should still rememberone who formerly had the happiness of being well acquainted with him,may I beg a few moments of his leisure time? I assure Mr. T. T. that Iwould not intrude upon his kindness, were I in any other position thanon the confines of distraction.

'Though harrowing to myself to mention, the alienation of Mr. Micawber(formerly so domesticated) from his wife and family, is the cause of myaddressing my unhappy appeal to Mr. Traddles, and soliciting his bestindulgence. Mr. T. can form no adequate idea of the change in Mr.Micawber's conduct, of his wildness, of his violence. It has graduallyaugmented, until it assumes the appearance of aberration of intellect.Scarcely a day passes, I assure Mr. Traddles, on which some paroxysmdoes not take place. Mr. T. will not require me to depict my feelings,when I inform him that I have become accustomed to hear Mr. Micawberassert that he has sold himself to the D. Mystery and secrecy havelong been his principal characteristic, have long replaced unlimitedconfidence. The slightest provocation, even being asked if there isanything he would prefer for dinner, causes him to express a wish for aseparation. Last night, on being childishly solicited for twopence, tobuy 'lemon-stunners'--a local sweetmeat--he presented an oyster-knife atthe twins!

'I entreat Mr. Traddles to bear with me in entering into these details.Without them, Mr. T. would indeed find it difficult to form the faintestconception of my heart-rending situation.

'May I now venture to confide to Mr. T. the purport of my letter? Willhe now allow me to throw myself on his friendly consideration? Oh yes,for I know his heart!

'The quick eye of affection is not easily blinded, when of the femalesex. Mr. Micawber is going to London. Though he studiously concealed hishand, this morning before breakfast, in writing the direction-card whichhe attached to the little brown valise of happier days, the eagle-glanceof matrimonial anxiety detected, d, o, n, distinctly traced. TheWest-End destination of the coach, is the Golden Cross. Dare I ferventlyimplore Mr. T. to see my misguided husband, and to reason with him?Dare I ask Mr. T. to endeavour to step in between Mr. Micawber and hisagonized family? Oh no, for that would be too much!

'If Mr. Copperfield should yet remember one unknown to fame, will Mr.T. take charge of my unalterable regards and similar entreaties? Inany case, he will have the benevolence to consider this communicationstrictly private, and on no account whatever to be alluded to, howeverdistantly, in the presence of Mr. Micawber. If Mr. T. should everreply to it (which I cannot but feel to be most improbable), a letteraddressed to M. E., Post Office, Canterbury, will be fraught withless painful consequences than any addressed immediately to one, whosubscribes herself, in extreme distress,

'Mr. Thomas Traddles's respectful friend and suppliant,

'EMMA MICAWBER.'

'What do you think of that letter?' said Traddles, casting his eyes uponme, when I had read it twice.

'What do you think of the other?' said I. For he was still reading itwith knitted brows.

'I think that the two together, Copperfield,' replied Traddles,'mean more than Mr. and Mrs. Micawber usually mean in theircorrespondence--but I don't know what. They are both written in goodfaith, I have no doubt, and without any collusion. Poor thing!' he wasnow alluding to Mrs. Micawber's letter, and we were standing side byside comparing the two; 'it will be a charity to write to her, at allevents, and tell her that we will not fail to see Mr. Micawber.'

I acceded to this the more readily, because I now reproached myself withhaving treated her former letter rather lightly. It had set me thinkinga good deal at the time, as I have mentioned in its place; but myabsorption in my own affairs, my experience of the family, and myhearing nothing more, had gradually ended in my dismissing the subject.I had often thought of the Micawbers, but chiefly to wonder what'pecuniary liabilities' they were establishing in Canterbury, and torecall how shy Mr. Micawber was of me when he became clerk to UriahHeep.

However, I now wrote a comforting letter to Mrs. Micawber, in ourjoint names, and we both signed it. As we walked into town to post it,Traddles and I held a long conference, and launched into a number ofspeculations, which I need not repeat. We took my aunt into our counselsin the afternoon; but our only decided conclusion was, that we would bevery punctual in keeping Mr. Micawber's appointment.

Although we appeared at the stipulated place a quarter of an hour beforethe time, we found Mr. Micawber already there. He was standing with hisarms folded, over against the wall, looking at the spikes on the top,with a sentimental expression, as if they were the interlacing boughs oftrees that had shaded him in his youth.

When we accosted him, his manner was something more confused, andsomething less genteel, than of yore. He had relinquished his legal suitof black for the purposes of this excursion, and wore the old surtoutand tights, but not quite with the old air. He gradually picked up moreand more of it as we conversed with him; but, his very eye-glass seemedto hang less easily, and his shirt-collar, though still of the oldformidable dimensions, rather drooped.

'Gentlemen!' said Mr. Micawber, after the first salutations, 'you arefriends in need, and friends indeed. Allow me to offer my inquiries withreference to the physical welfare of Mrs. Copperfield in esse, andMrs. Traddles in posse,--presuming, that is to say, that my friend Mr.Traddles is not yet united to the object of his affections, for weal andfor woe.'

We acknowledged his politeness, and made suitable replies. He thendirected our attention to the wall, and was beginning, 'I assure you,gentlemen,' when I ventured to object to that ceremonious form ofaddress, and to beg that he would speak to us in the old way.

'My dear Copperfield,' he returned, pressing my hand, 'your cordialityoverpowers me. This reception of a shattered fragment of the Temple oncecalled Man--if I may be permitted so to express myself--bespeaks a heartthat is an honour to our common nature. I was about to observe thatI again behold the serene spot where some of the happiest hours of myexistence fleeted by.'

'Made so, I am sure, by Mrs. Micawber,' said I. 'I hope she is well?'

'Thank you,' returned Mr. Micawber, whose face clouded at thisreference, 'she is but so-so. And this,' said Mr. Micawber, noddinghis head sorrowfully, 'is the Bench! Where, for the first time in manyrevolving years, the overwhelming pressure of pecuniary liabilities wasnot proclaimed, from day to day, by importune voices declining to vacatethe passage; where there was no knocker on the door for any creditorto appeal to; where personal service of process was not required, anddetainees were merely lodged at the gate! Gentlemen,' said Mr. Micawber,'when the shadow of that iron-work on the summit of the brick structurehas been reflected on the gravel of the Parade, I have seen my childrenthread the mazes of the intricate pattern, avoiding the dark marks. Ihave been familiar with every stone in the place. If I betray weakness,you will know how to excuse me.'

'We have all got on in life since then, Mr. Micawber,' said I.

'Mr. Copperfield,' returned Mr. Micawber, bitterly, 'when I was aninmate of that retreat I could look my fellow-man in the face, and punchhis head if he offended me. My fellow-man and myself are no longer onthose glorious terms!'

Turning from the building in a downcast manner, Mr. Micawber acceptedmy proffered arm on one side, and the proffered arm of Traddles on theother, and walked away between us.

'There are some landmarks,' observed Mr. Micawber, looking fondly backover his shoulder, 'on the road to the tomb, which, but for the impietyof the aspiration, a man would wish never to have passed. Such is theBench in my chequered career.'

'Oh, you are in low spirits, Mr. Micawber,' said Traddles.

'I am, sir,' interposed Mr. Micawber.

'I hope,' said Traddles, 'it is not because you have conceived a disliketo the law--for I am a lawyer myself, you know.'

Mr. Micawber answered not a word.

'How is our friend Heep, Mr. Micawber?' said I, after a silence.

'My dear Copperfield,' returned Mr. Micawber, bursting into a state ofmuch excitement, and turning pale, 'if you ask after my employer asyour friend, I am sorry for it; if you ask after him as MY friend,I sardonically smile at it. In whatever capacity you ask after myemployer, I beg, without offence to you, to limit my reply to this--thatwhatever his state of health may be, his appearance is foxy: not tosay diabolical. You will allow me, as a private individual, todecline pursuing a subject which has lashed me to the utmost verge ofdesperation in my professional capacity.'

I expressed my regret for having innocently touched upon a themethat roused him so much. 'May I ask,' said I, 'without any hazard ofrepeating the mistake, how my old friends Mr. and Miss Wickfield are?'

'Miss Wickfield,' said Mr. Micawber, now turning red, 'is, as she alwaysis, a pattern, and a bright example. My dear Copperfield, she is theonly starry spot in a miserable existence. My respect for that younglady, my admiration of her character, my devotion to her for her loveand truth, and goodness!--Take me,' said Mr. Micawber, 'down a turning,for, upon my soul, in my present state of mind I am not equal to this!'

We wheeled him off into a narrow street, where he took out hispocket-handkerchief, and stood with his back to a wall. If I looked asgravely at him as Traddles did, he must have found our company by nomeans inspiriting.

'It is my fate,' said Mr. Micawber, unfeignedly sobbing, but doing eventhat, with a shadow of the old expression of doing something genteel;'it is my fate, gentlemen, that the finer feelings of our nature havebecome reproaches to me. My homage to Miss Wickfield, is a flight ofarrows in my bosom. You had better leave me, if you please, to walk theearth as a vagabond. The worm will settle my business in double-quicktime.'

Without attending to this invocation, we stood by, until he put up hispocket-handkerchief, pulled up his shirt-collar, and, to delude anyperson in the neighbourhood who might have been observing him, hummed atune with his hat very much on one side. I then mentioned--not knowingwhat might be lost if we lost sight of him yet--that it would give megreat pleasure to introduce him to my aunt, if he would ride out toHighgate, where a bed was at his service.

'You shall make us a glass of your own punch, Mr. Micawber,' saidI, 'and forget whatever you have on your mind, in pleasanterreminiscences.'

'Or, if confiding anything to friends will be more likely to relieveyou, you shall impart it to us, Mr. Micawber,' said Traddles, prudently.

'Gentlemen,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'do with me as you will! I am astraw upon the surface of the deep, and am tossed in all directions bythe elephants--I beg your pardon; I should have said the elements.'

We walked on, arm-in-arm, again; found the coach in the act of starting;and arrived at Highgate without encountering any difficulties by theway. I was very uneasy and very uncertain in my mind what to say or dofor the best--so was Traddles, evidently. Mr. Micawber was for the mostpart plunged into deep gloom. He occasionally made an attempt to smartenhimself, and hum the fag-end of a tune; but his relapses into profoundmelancholy were only made the more impressive by the mockery of a hatexceedingly on one side, and a shirt-collar pulled up to his eyes.

We went to my aunt's house rather than to mine, because of Dora's notbeing well. My aunt presented herself on being sent for, and welcomedMr. Micawber with gracious cordiality. Mr. Micawber kissed her hand,retired to the window, and pulling out his pocket-handkerchief, had amental wrestle with himself.

Mr. Dick was at home. He was by nature so exceedingly compassionate ofanyone who seemed to be ill at ease, and was so quick to find any suchperson out, that he shook hands with Mr. Micawber, at least half-a-dozentimes in five minutes. To Mr. Micawber, in his trouble, this warmth, onthe part of a stranger, was so extremely touching, that he couldonly say, on the occasion of each successive shake, 'My dear sir, youoverpower me!' Which gratified Mr. Dick so much, that he went at itagain with greater vigour than before.

'The friendliness of this gentleman,' said Mr. Micawber to my aunt, 'ifyou will allow me, ma'am, to cull a figure of speech from the vocabularyof our coarser national sports--floors me. To a man who is strugglingwith a complicated burden of perplexity and disquiet, such a receptionis trying, I assure you.'

'My friend Mr. Dick,' replied my aunt proudly, 'is not a common man.'

'That I am convinced of,' said Mr. Micawber. 'My dear sir!' for Mr.Dick was shaking hands with him again; 'I am deeply sensible of yourcordiality!'

'How do you find yourself?' said Mr. Dick, with an anxious look.

'Indifferent, my dear sir,' returned Mr. Micawber, sighing.

'You must keep up your spirits,' said Mr. Dick, 'and make yourself ascomfortable as possible.'

Mr. Micawber was quite overcome by these friendly words, and by findingMr. Dick's hand again within his own. 'It has been my lot,' he observed,'to meet, in the diversified panorama of human existence, with anoccasional oasis, but never with one so green, so gushing, as thepresent!'

At another time I should have been amused by this; but I felt thatwe were all constrained and uneasy, and I watched Mr. Micawber soanxiously, in his vacillations between an evident disposition to revealsomething, and a counter-disposition to reveal nothing, that I was in aperfect fever. Traddles, sitting on the edge of his chair, with his eyeswide open, and his hair more emphatically erect than ever, stared byturns at the ground and at Mr. Micawber, without so much as attemptingto put in a word. My aunt, though I saw that her shrewdest observationwas concentrated on her new guest, had more useful possession of herwits than either of us; for she held him in conversation, and made itnecessary for him to talk, whether he liked it or not.

'You are a very old friend of my nephew's, Mr. Micawber,' said my aunt.'I wish I had had the pleasure of seeing you before.'

'Madam,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'I wish I had had the honour of knowingyou at an earlier period. I was not always the wreck you at presentbehold.'

'I hope Mrs. Micawber and your family are well, sir,' said my aunt.

Mr. Micawber inclined his head. 'They are as well, ma'am,' hedesperately observed after a pause, 'as Aliens and Outcasts can everhope to be.'

'Lord bless you, sir!' exclaimed my aunt, in her abrupt way. 'What areyou talking about?'

'The subsistence of my family, ma'am,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'tremblesin the balance. My employer--'

Here Mr. Micawber provokingly left off; and began to peel the lemonsthat had been under my directions set before him, together with all theother appliances he used in making punch.

'Your employer, you know,' said Mr. Dick, jogging his arm as a gentlereminder.

'My good sir,' returned Mr. Micawber, 'you recall me, I am obliged toyou.' They shook hands again. 'My employer, ma'am--Mr. Heep--once didme the favour to observe to me, that if I were not in the receipt of thestipendiary emoluments appertaining to my engagement with him, I shouldprobably be a mountebank about the country, swallowing a sword-blade,and eating the devouring element. For anything that I can perceive tothe contrary, it is still probable that my children may be reduced toseek a livelihood by personal contortion, while Mrs. Micawber abetstheir unnatural feats by playing the barrel-organ.'

Mr. Micawber, with a random but expressive flourish of his knife,signified that these performances might be expected to take place afterhe was no more; then resumed his peeling with a desperate air.

My aunt leaned her elbow on the little round table that she usually keptbeside her, and eyed him attentively. Notwithstanding the aversion withwhich I regarded the idea of entrapping him into any disclosure he wasnot prepared to make voluntarily, I should have taken him up at thispoint, but for the strange proceedings in which I saw him engaged;whereof his putting the lemon-peel into the kettle, the sugar into thesnuffer-tray, the spirit into the empty jug, and confidently attemptingto pour boiling water out of a candlestick, were among the mostremarkable. I saw that a crisis was at hand, and it came. He clatteredall his means and implements together, rose from his chair, pulled outhis pocket-handkerchief, and burst into tears.

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, behind his handkerchief,'this is an occupation, of all others, requiring an untroubled mind, andself-respect. I cannot perform it. It is out of the question.'

'Mr. Micawber,' said I, 'what is the matter? Pray speak out. You areamong friends.'

'Among friends, sir!' repeated Mr. Micawber; and all he had reservedcame breaking out of him. 'Good heavens, it is principally because I AMamong friends that my state of mind is what it is. What is the matter,gentlemen? What is NOT the matter? Villainy is the matter; baseness isthe matter; deception, fraud, conspiracy, are the matter; and the nameof the whole atrocious mass is--HEEP!'

MY aunt clapped her hands, and we all started up as if we werepossessed.

'The struggle is over!' said Mr. Micawber violently gesticulating withhis pocket-handkerchief, and fairly striking out from time to time withboth arms, as if he were swimming under superhuman difficulties. 'I willlead this life no longer. I am a wretched being, cut off from everythingthat makes life tolerable. I have been under a Taboo in that infernalscoundrel's service. Give me back my wife, give me back my family,substitute Micawber for the petty wretch who walks about in the bootsat present on my feet, and call upon me to swallow a sword tomorrow, andI'll do it. With an appetite!'

I never saw a man so hot in my life. I tried to calm him, that we mightcome to something rational; but he got hotter and hotter, and wouldn'thear a word.

'I'll put my hand in no man's hand,' said Mr. Micawber, gasping,puffing, and sobbing, to that degree that he was like a manfighting with cold water, 'until I have--blown tofragments--the--a--detestable--serpent--HEEP! I'll partake of noone's hospitality, until I have--a--moved Mount Vesuvius--toeruption--on--a--the abandoned rascal--HEEP! Refreshment--a--underneaththis roof--particularly punch--would--a--choke me--unless--Ihad--previously--choked the eyes--out of the head--a--of--interminablecheat, and liar--HEEP! I--a--I'll know nobody--and--a--saynothing--and--a--live nowhere--until I havecrushed--to--a--undiscoverable atoms--the--transcendent and immortalhypocrite and perjurer--HEEP!'

I really had some fear of Mr. Micawber's dying on the spot. The mannerin which he struggled through these inarticulate sentences, and,whenever he found himself getting near the name of Heep, fought his wayon to it, dashed at it in a fainting state, and brought it out with avehemence little less than marvellous, was frightful; but now, whenhe sank into a chair, steaming, and looked at us, with every possiblecolour in his face that had no business there, and an endless processionof lumps following one another in hot haste up his throat, whence theyseemed to shoot into his forehead, he had the appearance of being inthe last extremity. I would have gone to his assistance, but he waved meoff, and wouldn't hear a word.

'No, Copperfield!--No communication--a--until--MissWickfield--a--redress from wrongs inflicted by consummatescoundrel--HEEP!' (I am quite convinced he could not have uttered threewords, but for the amazing energy with which this word inspired him whenhe felt it coming.) 'Inviolable secret--a--from the whole world--a--noexceptions--this day week--a--at breakfast-time--a--everybodypresent--including aunt--a--and extremely friendly gentleman--to be atthe hotel at Canterbury--a--where--Mrs. Micawber and myself--Auld LangSyne in chorus--and--a--will expose intolerable ruffian--HEEP! No moreto say--a--or listen to persuasion--go immediately--not capable--a--bearsociety--upon the track of devoted and doomed traitor--HEEP!'

With this last repetition of the magic word that had kept him going atall, and in which he surpassed all his previous efforts, Mr. Micawberrushed out of the house; leaving us in a state of excitement, hope, andwonder, that reduced us to a condition little better than his own. Buteven then his passion for writing letters was too strong to be resisted;for while we were yet in the height of our excitement, hope, and wonder,the following pastoral note was brought to me from a neighbouringtavern, at which he had called to write it:--

'Most secret and confidential.'MY DEAR SIR,

'I beg to be allowed to convey, through you, my apologies to yourexcellent aunt for my late excitement. An explosion of a smoulderingvolcano long suppressed, was the result of an internal contest moreeasily conceived than described.

'I trust I rendered tolerably intelligible my appointment for themorning of this day week, at the house of public entertainment atCanterbury, where Mrs. Micawber and myself had once the honour ofuniting our voices to yours, in the well-known strain of the Immortalexciseman nurtured beyond the Tweed.

'The duty done, and act of reparation performed, which can alone enableme to contemplate my fellow mortal, I shall be known no more. I shallsimply require to be deposited in that place of universal resort, where

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,

'--With the plain Inscription,

'WILKINS MICAWBER.'