Noble creeters! I wuz proud on ’em as I thought over their likely, riz-up deeds. I couldn’t have done more for my Josiah, and I felt it as I looked on ’em.
Wall, I said that the very first place I wanted to see wuz the place sacred to the Great Dead. So I went off kinder by myself, as I spozed, led by a guide, but the rest follered on after me.
Martin said that if a telegram should recall him home sudden, he spozed it would be expected of him, anyway, to say that he had stood by the monuments to Shakespeare, Dickens, Thackeray, etc., in Westminster Abbey. Sez he, “I have never read the poems of the last two gentlemen, but I hear that they are very creditable; so much so, that I have heard their names mentioned often, and I would like to say that I have stood by their remains.”
I didn’t say nothin’ to Martin, but the feelin’s as I stood right by the side of that man made a deep gulf that swep’ him fur off away from me, and swep’ me back into a life that seemed more real, almost, than my own.
Little fingers plucked at my gown, as it were, and, lookin’ down, I see the brave, patient face of Little Nell, and Tiny Tim, and David Copperfield, and the old-fashioned looks of little Paul Dombey, and Little Rowdey, Becky Sharp’s neglected boy; and little Clive Newcome’s sturdy figger wuz pushed away anon by the tall, slender figger that walked by his cousin Ethel Newcome’s side with a achin’ heart. I seemed to hear the Old Colonel saying “adsum” to the Heavenly roll-call.
Mrs. Gummidge’s melancholy voice, recallin’ the “old un’,” mingled with Peggotty’s comfortin’ talk and tender words to “Little Em’ly;” Mrs. Micawber, bearin’ the twins, passed on before me; Micawber, Dombey, Pecksniff, Little Dorrit’s patient form, Bella Wilfer’s handsome, wilful face went by me, a-lookin’ up, coquettish, but lovin’, into the sad, reasonable eyes of “Our Mutual Friend.”
CHAPTER XXI.
WESTMINSTER AND PARLIAMENT HOUSES.
I see Captain Cuttle and Bunsby fleein’ from Mrs. McStinger, and Wall’r Boy and his uncle, and Susan Nipper and Toots, and Mrs. Pipchin, and sweet Florence a-walkin’ by the Little Brother where the wild waves were talkin’ to him and the silver sails a-beckonin’ him over into a fur country—David Copperfield; Dora, the child wife; Agnes Wickfield, with her finger on her lips, and a-pintin’ upwards; dear Aunt Betsy Trotwood, and Oliver and Nicholas Nickleby; Mrs. Jellaby, with her dress onhooked and droppin’ papers with absent eyes, and Esther and Guardy, and Skimpole and the little Pardiggles—
How the crowd swep’ by me! It wuz a sight.