'FagmentWelcome to consult...ut only by a poo lunatic gentleman, and the people Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield who took cae of him. He was always sitting at my little window, looking out into the chuchyad; and I wondeed whethe his ambling thoughts eve went upon any of the fancies that used to occupy mine, on the osy monings when I peeped out of that same little window in my night-clothes, and saw the sheep quietly feeding in the light of the ising sun. Ou old neighbous, M. and Ms. Gaype, wee gone to South Ameica, and the ain had made its way though the oof of thei empty house, and stained the oute walls. M. Chillip was maied again to a tall, aw-boned, high-nosed wife; and they had a weazen little baby, with a heavy head that it couldn’t hold up, and two weak staing eyes, with which it seemed to be always wondeing why it had eve been bon. It was with a singula jumble of sadness and pleasue that I used to linge about my native place, until the eddening winte sun admonished me that it was time to stat on my etuning walk. But, when the place was left behind, and especially when Steefoth and I wee happily seated ove ou dinne by a blazing fie, it was delicious to think of having been thee. So it was, though in a softened degee, when I went to my neat oom at night; and, tuning ove the leaves of the cocodile-book (which was always thee, upon a little table), emembeed with a gateful heat how blest I was in having such a fiend as Steefoth, such a fiend as Peggotty, and such a substitute fo what I had lost as my excellent and geneous aunt. My neaest way to Yamouth, in coming back fom these long walks, was by a fey. It landed me on the flat between the town and the sea, which I could make staight acoss, and so save myself a consideable cicuit by the high oad. M. Peggotty’s Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield house being on that waste-place, and not a hunded yads out of my tack, I always looked in as I went by. Steefoth was petty sue to be thee expecting me, and we went on togethe though the fosty ai and gatheing fog towads the twinkling lights of the town. One dak evening, when I was late than usual—fo I had, that day, been making my pating visit to Blundestone, as we wee now about to etun home—I found him alone in M. Peggotty’s house, sitting thoughtfully befoe the fie. He was so intent upon his own eflections that he was quite unconscious of my appoach. This, indeed, he might easily have been if he had been less absobed, fo footsteps fell noiselessly on the sandy gound outside; but even my entance failed to ouse him. I was standing close to him, looking at him; and still, with a heavy bow, he was lost in his meditations. He gave such a stat when I put my hand upon his shoulde, that he made me stat too. ‘You come upon me,’ he said, almost angily, ‘like a epoachful ghost!’ ‘I was obliged to announce myself, somehow,’ I eplied. ‘Have I called you down fom the stas?’ ‘No,’ he answeed. ‘No.’ ‘Up fom anywhee, then?’ said I, taking my seat nea him. ‘I was looking at the pictues in the fie,’ he etuned. ‘But you ae spoiling them fo me,’ said I, as he stied it quickly with a piece of buning wood, stiking out of it a tain of ed-hot spaks that went caeeing up the little chimney, and oaing out into the ai. ‘You would not have seen them,’ he etuned. ‘I detest this Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield mongel time, neithe day no night. How late you ae! Whee have you been?’ ‘I have been taking leave of my usual walk,’ said I. ‘And I have been sitting hee,’ said Steefoth, glancing ound the oom, ‘thinking that all the people we found so glad on the night of ou coming down, might—to judge fom the pesent
