on my own behalf, and,
I may undertake to add, on that of the whole of the Inhabitants of Port
Middlebay, for the gratification of which you are the ministering agent.

'Go on, my dear Sir! You are not unknown here, you are not
unappreciated. Though "remote", we are neither "unfriended",
"melancholy", nor (I may add) "slow". Go on, my dear Sir, in your Eagle
course! The inhabitants of Port Middlebay may at least aspire to watch
it, with delight, with entertainment, with instruction!

'Among the eyes elevated towards you from this portion of the globe,
will ever be found, while it has light and life,

'The
'Eye
'Appertaining to

'WILKINS MICAWBER,
'Magistrate.'

I found, on glancing at the remaining contents of the newspaper, that
Mr. Micawber was a diligent and esteemed correspondent of that journal.
There was another letter from him in the same paper, touching a bridge;
there was an advertisement of a collection of similar letters by him, to
be shortly republished, in a neat volume, 'with considerable additions';
and, unless I am very much mistaken, the Leading Article was his also.

We talked much of Mr. Micawber, on many other evenings while Mr.
Peggotty remained with us. He lived with us during the whole term of his
stay,--which, I think, was something less than a month,--and his sister
and my aunt came to London to see him. Agnes and I parted from him
aboard-ship, when he sailed; and we shall never part from him more, on
earth.

But before he left, he went with me to Yarmouth, to see a little tablet
I had put up in the churchyard to the memory of Ham. While I was copying
the plain inscription for him at his request, I saw him stoop, and
gather a tuft of grass from the grave and a little earth.

'For Em'ly,' he said, as he put it in his breast. 'I promised, Mas'r
Davy.'

CHAPTER 64. A LAST RETROSPECT

And now my written story ends. I look back, once more--for the last
time--before I close these leaves.

I see myself, with Agnes at my side, journeying along the road of life.
I see our children and our friends around us; and I hear the roar of
many voices, not indifferent to me as I travel on.

What faces are the most distinct to me in the fleeting crowd? Lo, these;
all turning to me as I ask my thoughts the question!

Here is my aunt, in stronger spectacles, an old woma