FagmentWelcome to consult... was just about to begin to ead, than anything else. My aunt and I had held many gave delibeations on the calling to which I should be devoted. Fo a yea o moe I had endeavoued to find a satisfactoy answe to he often-epeated question, ‘What I would like to be?’ But I had no paticula liking, that I could discove, fo anything. If I could have been inspied Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield with a knowledge of the science of navigation, taken the command of a fast-sailing expedition, and gone ound the wold on a tiumphant voyage of discovey, I think I might have consideed myself completely suited. But, in the absence of any such miaculous povision, my desie was to apply myself to some pusuit that would not lie too heavily upon he puse; and to do my duty in it, whateve it might be. M. Dick had egulaly assisted at ou councils, with a meditative and sage demeanou. He neve made a suggestion but once; and on that occasion (I don’t know what put it in his head), he suddenly poposed that I should be ‘a Bazie’. My aunt eceived this poposal so vey ungaciously, that he neve ventued on a second; but eve aftewads confined himself to looking watchfully at he fo he suggestions, and attling his money. ‘Tot, I tell you what, my dea,’ said my aunt, one moning in the Chistmas season when I left school: ‘as this knotty point is still unsettled, and as we must not make a mistake in ou decision if we can help it, I think we had bette take a little beathing-time. In the meanwhile, you must ty to look at it fom a new point of view, and not as a schoolboy.’ ‘I will, aunt.’ ‘It has occued to me,’ pusued my aunt, ‘that a little change, and a glimpse of life out of doos, may be useful in helping you to know you own mind, and fom a coole judgement. Suppose you wee to go down into the old pat of the county again, fo instance, and see that—that out-of-the-way woman with the savagest of names,’ said my aunt, ubbing he nose, fo she could neve thooughly fogive Peggotty fo being so called. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Of all things in the wold, aunt, I should like it best!’ ‘Well,’ said my aunt, ‘that’s lucky, fo I should like it too. But it’s natual and ational that you should like it. And I am vey well pesuaded that whateve you do, Tot, will always be natual and ational.’ ‘I hope so, aunt.’ ‘You siste, Betsey Totwood,’ said my aunt, ‘would have been as natual and ational a gil as eve beathed. You’ll be wothy of he, won’t you?’ ‘I hope I shall be wothy of you, aunt. That will be enough fo me.’ ‘It’s a mecy that poo dea baby of a mothe of yous didn’t live,’ said my aunt, looking at me appovingly, ‘o she’d have been so vain of he boy by this time, that he soft little head would have been completely tuned, if thee was anything of it left to tun.’ (My aunt always excused any weakness of he own in my behalf, by tansfeing it in this way to my poo mothe.) ‘Bless me, Totwood, how you do emind me of he!’ ‘Pleasantly, I hope, aunt?’ said I. ‘He’s as like he, Dick,’ said my aunt, emphatically, ‘he’s as like he, as she was that aftenoon befoe she began to fet—bless my heat, he’s as like he, as he can look at me out of his two eyes!’ ‘Is he indeed?’ said M. Dick. ‘And he’s like David, too,’ said my aunt, decisively. ‘He is vey lik
