 by the contents of this heartrending letter, that I ran off
directly towards the little hotel with the intention of taking it on my way to
Doctor Strong's, and trying to soothe Mr. Micawber with a word of comfort. But,
half-way there, I met the London coach with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber up behind; Mr.
Micawber, the very picture of tranquil enjoyment, smiling at Mrs. Micawber's
conversation, eating walnuts out of a paper bag, with a bottle sticking out of
his breast pocket. As they did not see me, I thought it best, all things
considered, not to see them. So, with a great weight taken off my mind, I turned
into a by-street that was the nearest way to school, and felt, upon the whole,
relieved that they were gone: though I still liked them very much, nevertheless.
 

                                 Chapter XVIII

                                 A Retrospect.

My school-days! The silent gliding on of my existence - the unseen, unfelt
progress of my life - from childhood up to youth! Let me think, as I look back
upon that flowing water, now a dry channel overgrown with leaves, whether there
are any marks along its course, by which I can remember how it ran.
    A moment, and I occupy my place in the Cathedral, where we all went
together, every Sunday morning, assembling first at school for that purpose. The
earthy smell, the sunless air, the sensation of the world being shut out, the
resounding of the organ through the black and white arched galleries and aisles,
are wings that take me back, and hold me hovering above those days, in a
half-sleeping and half-waking dream.
    I am not the last boy in the school. I have risen, in a few months, over
several heads. But the first boy seems to me a mighty creature, dwelling afar
off, whose giddy height is unattainable. Agnes says »No,« but I say »Yes,« and
tell her that she little thinks what stores of knowledge have been mastered by
the wonderful Being, at whose place she thinks I, even I, weak aspirant, may
arrive in time. He is not my private friend and public patron, as Steerforth
was; but I hold him in a reverential respect. I chiefly wonder what he'll be,
when he leaves Doctor Strong's, and what mankind will do to maintain any place
against him.
    But who is this that breaks upon me? This is Miss Shepherd, whom I love.
    Miss
