“My dear, we will not anticipate the decrees of fortune. If I am reserved to wear a wig, I am at least prepared, externally,” in allusion to his baldness, “for that distinction. I do not,” said Mr. Micawber, “regret my hair, and I may have been deprived of it for a specific purpose. I cannot say. It is my intention, my dear Copperfield, to educate my son for the Church; I will not deny that I should be happy, on his account, to attain to eminence.”

“For the Church?” said I, still pondering, between whiles, on Uriah Heep.

“Yes,” said Mr. Micawber. “He has a remarkable head-voice, and will commence as a chorister. Our residence at Canterbury, and our local connection, will, no doubt, enable him to take advantage of any vacancy that may arise in the Cathedral corps.”