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" Oh, you must not talk about dying,
et.’
j 6 Lor bless her dear heart, no!” mter¬
posed the nurse, hastily depositing in her
pocket a green glass bottle, the contents
of which she had been tasting in a corner
with evident satisfaction. ‘ Lor bless her
dear heart, when she has lived as long as
I have, sir, and had thirteen children of
~her own, and all on "em dead except two,
and them in the wurkus with me, she’ll
know better than to take on in that way,
bless her dear heart! Think what it is
to be a mother, there’s a dear young
lamb, do.”
Apparently this consolatory perspective
of a mother’s prospects failed in producing
its due effect. The patient shook her
head, and stretched out her hand towards
the child.
The surgeon deposited it in her arms.
She imprinted her cold white lips passion¬
ately on its forehead, passed her hands
over her face, gazed wildly round, shud¬
dered, fell back—and died. ‘They chafed
her breast, hands, and temples; but the
blood had frozen for ever. They talked
of hope and comfort. They had been
strangers too long.
cc [ts all over, Mrs. Thingummy,” said
the surgeon, at last.
s Ah, poor dear; so it is!” said the
nurse, picking up the cork of the green
bottle which had fallen out on the pillow
as she stooped to take up the child. § Poor
dear !"
c You needn’t mind sending up to me,
if the child cries, nurse,” said the surgeon,
putting on his gloves with great delib¬
eration. “It’s very likely it will be
troublesome. Give it a little gruel if it
az. §?
is." He put on his hat, and pausing b
the bed-side on his way to the door, added,
“She was a good looking girl too; where
did she come from ?”
“She was brought here last night,” re¬
plied the old woman, “ by the overseer’s
order. She was found lying in the street ;
she had walked some distance, for her
shoes were worn to pieces; but where
she came from, or where she was going
to, nobody knows.”
The surgeon leant over the body, and
raised the left hand. " The old story,” he
said, shaking his head: “no wedding-ring,
I see. Ah! good night.”
The medical gentleman walked away
to dinner; and the nurse, having once
more applied herself to the green bottle,
sat down ona low chair before the fire,
and proceeded to dress the infant.
And what an example of the power of
in the blanket which had hitherto formed
his only covering, he might have been the
child of a nobleman or a beggar ;—it
would have been hard for the haughtiest
stranger to have fixed his station in socie¬
ty. But now he was enveloped in the
old calico robes, that had grown yellow in
the same service; he was badged and
ticketed, and fell into his place at once—
a parish child—the orphan of a workhouse
—the humble, half-starved drudge—to be
cuffed and buffeted through the world,
despised by all, and pitied by none.
Oliver cried lustily. If he could have
known that he was an orphan, left to the
tender mercies of churchwardens and
overseers, perhaps he would have cried
the louder.
CHAPTER THE SECOND
Treats of Oliver Twist’s Growth, Education,
and Board.
For the next eight or ten months, Oli¬
ver was the victim of a systematic course
of treachery and deception—he was
brought up by hand. ‘The hungry and
destitute situation of the infant orphan
was duly reported by the workhouse
authorities to the parish authorities. ‘The
parish authorities inquired with dignity
of the workhouse authorities, whether
there was no female then domiciled in
sc the house” who was in a situation to im¬
part to Oliver the consolation and nour¬
ishment of which he stood in need. ‘The
workhouse authorities replied with hu¬
mility that there was not. Upon this, the
parish authorities magnanimously and hu¬
manely resolved, that Oliver should be
“farmed,” or, in other words, that he
house some three miles off, where twenty
or thirty other juvenile offenders against
the poor-laws rolled about the floor all
day, without the inconvenience of too
much food, or too much clothing, under
the parental superintendence of an elderly
female who received the culprits at and
for the consideration of sevenpence-half¬
penny per small head per week. Seven¬
pence-halfpenny’s worth per week is a
good round diet for a child; a great deal
may be got for sevenpence-halfpenny—
quite enough to overload its stomach, and
make it uncomfortable. The elderly fe¬
male was a woman of wisdom and expe¬
rience; she knew what was good for