“Would you like to be taught Latin?” I said briskly. “I will teach it you with pleasure, as I learn it.”
“Oh, thank you, Master Copperfield,” he answered, shaking his head. “I am sure it’s very kind of you to make the offer, but I am much too ’umble to accept it.”
“What nonsense, Uriah!”
“Oh, indeed you must excuse me, Master Copperfield! I am greatly obliged, and I should like it of all things, I assure you; but I am far too ’umble. There are people enough to tread upon me in my lowly state, without my doing outrage to their feelings by possessing learning. Learning ain’t for me. A person like myself had better not aspire. If he is to get on in life, he must get on ’umbly, Master Copperfield!”
I never saw his mouth so wide, or the creases in his cheeks so deep, as when he delivered himself of these sentiments: shaking his head all the time, and writhing modestly.
“I think you are wrong, Uriah,” I said. “I dare say there are several things that I could teach you, if you would like to learn them.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Master Copperfield,” he answered; “not in the least. But not being ’umble yourself, you don’t judge well, perhaps, for them that are. I won’t provoke my betters with knowledge, thank you. I’m much too ’umble. Here is my ’umble dwelling, Master Copperfield!”
We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from the street, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah,