dear Agnes—and therefore we may take it for granted that he is doing well. But what is the latest news of him?”
Mr. Peggotty, with a smile, put his hand in his breast pocket, and produced a flat-folded, paper parcel, from which he took out, with much care, a little odd-looking newspaper.
“You are to understan’, Mas’r Davy,” said he, “as we have left the Bush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to Port Middlebay Harbour, wheer theer’s what we call a town.”
“ Mr. Micawber was in the Bush near you?” said I.
“Bless you, yes,” said Mr. Peggotty, “and turned to with a will. I never wish to meet a better gen’l’man for turning to with a will. I’ve seen that theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun, Mas’r Davy, till I a’most thowt it would have melted away. And now he’s a Magistrate.”
“A Magistrate, eh?” said I.
Mr. Peggotty pointed to a certain paragraph in the newspaper, where I read aloud as follows, from the Port Middlebay Times:
“The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and townsman, Wilkins Micawber, Esquire , Port Middlebay District Magistrate, came off yesterday in the large room of the Hotel, which was crowded to suffocation. It is estimated that not fewer than forty-seven persons must have been accommodated with dinner at one time, exclusive of the company in the passage and on the stairs. The beauty, fashion, and exclusiveness of Port Middlebay, flocked to do honour to one so deservedly esteemed, so highly talented, and so widely popular. Doctor Mell (of Colonial Salem-House Grammar