The Sun.
London, England, 1849-08-03 00:00:00

UNITED SERVICE MAGAZINE.

The editor of the United Service, takes up the
cause of Captain Douglas warmly, but not snore
warmly than a soldier should take up the cause of a
brother soldier who has been made the victim of an
injustice which we fear is not altogether unparalleled
in the history of courts-martial. After giving a
narrative of the proceedings, he thus concludes
" After thirteen years of distinguished and honour-
able service, amply borne witness to by many officers of
high repute, Ceptain Douglas has been ignominiously
dismissed from the army. Thus, upon the prevaricating
testimony of a police agent, a gallant young officer, the
son of a very distinguished officer, every member of
whose family has for generations past devoted himself
to the service of his country—whose character was un-
blemished—is convicted, degraded, and removed from
the service. Captain Douglas has the right of memorial
open to him, and should he avail himself of that ines-
timable privilege, we earnestly hope that her Majesty
will graciously restore him to a service he was so emi-
nently qualified to adorn. If such eccentricities in
judicial inquiries prevail, no man's honour is safe; and
it is therefore to be hoped that this remarkable case may
lead to a permanent improvement in the administration
of our military law."
The professional papers in this number of the
United Service are all of high merit.

DAVID COPPERFIELD. No. IV. By Charles

Dickens.

Poor David Copperfield, except in name, turns out
after all to be Little Pickle. The scrapes he falls into,
the miseries he encounters on the very threshold of
existence, the vicissitudes he has to submit to and
suffer, show that the author has determined to im-
prove upon the scheme hitherto indicated by the
writer of " Pill Garlick." 'We shall learn, doubtless,
through the history of Copperfield, how a temper is
chastened by misfortune. The present number is of
rather melancholy import, though the opening is
somewhat humorous. The courtship of Mr. Barkis
is a rich piece of elephantine stupidity and affection. In
testimony of which take the following :
"Mr. Barkis's wooing, as I renumber it, was alto-
gether of a peculiar kind. Ho very seldom said any-
thing ; but would sit by the fire in much the same
attitude as he sat in, in his cart, and stare heavily at
Peggotty, who was opposite. One night, being, as I
suppose, inspired by love, he made a dart at the bit of
wax-candle she kept for her thread, and put it in his
waistcoat-pocket and carried it off. After that, his
great delight was to produce it when it was wanted,
sticking to the lining of his pocket, in a partially-
melted blab), and pocket it again when it was done with.
He seemed to enjoy himself very much, and not to feel
at all called upon to talk. Even when he took Peggotty
out for a walk on the fiats, he had no uneasiness on
that head, I believe ; contenting himself with now and
then asking her if she was pretty comfortable; and I
remember that sometimes, after he was gone, Peggotty
would throw her apron over her face, and laugh for
half-an-hour."

They are ultimately married, and David employed by
charity as a working boy, at six shillings a week, on the
establishment of Messrs. Murdstone and Grimsby, Mr.
Quinion, the manager, being his patron. Here it is
that we are introduced to Mr. Micawber, who, as he
may turn out a prominent person in the narrative, we
transfer to our columns as thus depicted :
" I went in, and found there a stoutish, middle-
aged person, in a brown surtout and black tights and
shoes, with no more hair upon his head (which was a
large one, and very shining) than there is upon an egg,
and with a very extensive face, which he turned full
upon me. His clothes were shabby, but he had an im-
posing shirt collar on. He carried a jaunty sort of a
stick, with a large pair of rusty tassels to it; and a quiz-
zing-glass hung outside his coat—for ornament, I after-
wards found, as he very seldom looked through it, and
couldn't see anything when he did."
At the residence of this worthy we are introduced to
a genus very common in London, if not elsewhere,—
those who are " hard up." Here David tells us of
his companions in misfortune :
"The only visitors," says he, "I ever saw or hoard
of, were creditors. They used to come at all hours, and
some of them were quite ferocious. One dirty-faced
man, I think he was a boot-maker, used to edge himself
into the passage as early as seven o'clock in the morn-
ing, and call up the stairs to Mr. Micawber—' Come I
You ain't out yet, you know. Pay us, will you? Don't
hide, you know; that's mean. I wouldn't be mean if I
was you. Pay us, will you ? You just pay us, d'ye
hear ? Come ! ' Receiving no answer to these taunts,
he would mount in his wrath to the words 'swindlers'
and ' robbers; ' and these being ineff!ctual too, would
sometimes go to the extremity of crossing the street, and
roaring up at the windows of the second floor, where he
knew Mr. Micawber was."

At the close of the present instalment of the fiction
poor unfortunate little David loses his box, and his
only scrap of money, half a sovereign, through the in-
strumentality of a long-legged young man—and being
left in destitution wanders towards Greenwich to find
his aunt Miss Betsy who resides somewhere about
Dover. We are curious as to the sequel of his ad-
ventures.