My job was to wash bottles, which would then be filled with wine, or to pack the filled bottles in cases. I was paid only six shillings a week. There were several other boys who worked with me，but I was the only one who had been to school. All the warehouse workers werecoarse, rough people, who were used to working in dirty conditions for long hours. No words can describe the horror I felt, when I realized what my life was going to be like from now on. I was deeply ashamed at having such a job and I was also afraid that I would forget everything I had learnt from my mother and my teachers. I would never find friends like Traddles or Steerforth, or be able to get a better position in life. It was an extremely unhappy time for me.

My stepfather had asked Mr Quinion, the manager, to find me somewhere to stay in London，so at the end of my first day I was called to Mr Quinion's office and introduced to an important-looking, rather fat, middle-aged man with a head as bald as an egg. His name was Mr Micawber, and he offered me a spare room in the house he was renting with his family.