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Authors: Charles Dickens
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him—beat him—kill him if they pleased—rather than send him away with that dreadful man.
“Well!” said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with most impressive solemnity. “Well! of all the artful and designing orphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest.”
“Hold your tongue, Beadle,” said the second old gentleman, when Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective.
“I beg your worship’s pardon,” said Mr. Bumble, incredulous of his having heard aright. “Did your worship speak to me?”
“Yes. Hold your tongue.”
Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle ordered to hold his tongue! A moral revolution!
The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at his companion; he nodded significantly.
“We refuse to sanction these indentures,” said the old gentleman, tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.
“I hope,” stammered Mr. Limbkins, “I hope the magistrates will not form the opinion that the authorities have been guilty of any improper conduct, on the unsupported testimony of a mere child.”
“The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion on the matter,” said the second old gentleman sharply. “Take the boy back to the workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems to want it.”
That same evening, the gentleman in the white waistcoat most positively and decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be hung, but that he would be drawn and quartered into the bargain. Mr. Bumble shook his head with gloomy mystery, and said he wished he might come to good; whereunto Mr. Gamfield replied that he wished he might come to him—which, although he agreed with the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of a totally opposite description.
The next morning, the public were once more informed that Oliver Twist was again To Let, and that five pounds would be paid to anybody who would take possession of him.
CHAPTER IV
Oliver, being offered another place, makes
his first entry into public life.
IN GREAT FAMILIES, WHEN AN ADVANTAGEOUS PLACE CANNOT BE obtained, either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, for the young man who is growing up, it is a very general custom to send him to sea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary an example, took counsel together on the expediency of shipping off Oliver Twist in some small trading vessel bound to a good unhealthy port. This suggested itself as the very best thing that could possibly be done with him, the probability being that the skipper would flog him to death, in a playful mood, some day after dinner, or would knock his brains out with an iron bar, both pastimes being, as is pretty generally known, very favourite and common recreations among gentlemen of that class. The more the case presented itself to the board, in this point of view, the more manifold the advantages of the step appeared; so they came to the conclusion that the only way of providing for Oliver effectually was to send him to sea without delay.
Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminary inquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other who wanted a cabin-boy without any friends, and was returning to the workhouse to communicate the result of his mission when he encountered at the gate no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, the parochial undertaker.
Mr. Sowerbeny was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, attired in a suit of threadbare black, with darned cotton stockings of the same colour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturally intended to wear a smiling aspect, but he was in general rather given to professional jocosity. His step was elastic, and his face betokened inward pleasantry, as he advanced to Mr. Bumble and shook him cordially by the hand.
“I have taken the measure of the two women that died last night, Mr. Bumble,” said the undertaker.
“You’ll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,” said the beadle, as he
“Well!” said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with most impressive solemnity. “Well! of all the artful and designing orphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest.”
“Hold your tongue, Beadle,” said the second old gentleman, when Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective.
“I beg your worship’s pardon,” said Mr. Bumble, incredulous of his having heard aright. “Did your worship speak to me?”
“Yes. Hold your tongue.”
Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle ordered to hold his tongue! A moral revolution!
The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at his companion; he nodded significantly.
“We refuse to sanction these indentures,” said the old gentleman, tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.
“I hope,” stammered Mr. Limbkins, “I hope the magistrates will not form the opinion that the authorities have been guilty of any improper conduct, on the unsupported testimony of a mere child.”
“The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion on the matter,” said the second old gentleman sharply. “Take the boy back to the workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems to want it.”
That same evening, the gentleman in the white waistcoat most positively and decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be hung, but that he would be drawn and quartered into the bargain. Mr. Bumble shook his head with gloomy mystery, and said he wished he might come to good; whereunto Mr. Gamfield replied that he wished he might come to him—which, although he agreed with the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of a totally opposite description.
The next morning, the public were once more informed that Oliver Twist was again To Let, and that five pounds would be paid to anybody who would take possession of him.
CHAPTER IV
Oliver, being offered another place, makes
his first entry into public life.
IN GREAT FAMILIES, WHEN AN ADVANTAGEOUS PLACE CANNOT BE obtained, either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, for the young man who is growing up, it is a very general custom to send him to sea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary an example, took counsel together on the expediency of shipping off Oliver Twist in some small trading vessel bound to a good unhealthy port. This suggested itself as the very best thing that could possibly be done with him, the probability being that the skipper would flog him to death, in a playful mood, some day after dinner, or would knock his brains out with an iron bar, both pastimes being, as is pretty generally known, very favourite and common recreations among gentlemen of that class. The more the case presented itself to the board, in this point of view, the more manifold the advantages of the step appeared; so they came to the conclusion that the only way of providing for Oliver effectually was to send him to sea without delay.
Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminary inquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other who wanted a cabin-boy without any friends, and was returning to the workhouse to communicate the result of his mission when he encountered at the gate no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, the parochial undertaker.
Mr. Sowerbeny was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, attired in a suit of threadbare black, with darned cotton stockings of the same colour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturally intended to wear a smiling aspect, but he was in general rather given to professional jocosity. His step was elastic, and his face betokened inward pleasantry, as he advanced to Mr. Bumble and shook him cordially by the hand.
“I have taken the measure of the two women that died last night, Mr. Bumble,” said the undertaker.
“You’ll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,” said the beadle, as he
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