Oldal 37 [37]
15
children, and she had a very accurate per¬
ception of what was good for herself. So,
she appropriated the greater part of the
weekly stipend to her own use, and con¬
signed the rising parochial generation to
even a shorter allowance than was origin¬
ally provided for them; thereby finding
in the lowest depth a deeper still, and
proving herself a very great experimental
philosopher.
Everybody knows the story of another
experimental philosopher, who had a great
theory about a horse being able to live
without eating, and who demonstrated it
so well, that he got his own horse down
to a straw a day, and would most unques¬
tionably have rendered him a very spirited
and rampacious animal upon nothing at
all, if he hadn’t died, just Scnvenik: tonalty
hours before he was to have had his first
comfortable bait of air. Unfortunately
for the experimental philosophy of the fe¬
male to whose protecting care Oliver
Twist was delivered over, a similar result
usually attended the operation of her sys¬
tem; for just at the very moment when a
child had contrived to exist upon the
smallest ible portion of the weakest
possible food, it did perversely happen in
eight and a half cases out of ten, either
that it sickened from want and cold, or
fell into the fire from neglect, or got
smothered by accident; im any one of
which cases, the miserable little being
was usually summoned into another world,
and there gathered to the fathers which
it had never known in this.
Occasionally, when there was some
more than usually interesting inquest
upon a parish child who had been over¬
looked in turning up a bedstead, or inad¬
vertently scalded to death when there
happened to be a washing, (though the
latter accident was very scarce,—any¬
thing approaching to a washing being of
rare occurrence in the farm,) the jury
would take it into their heads to ask trou¬
blesome questions, or the parishioners
would rebelliously affix their signatures
to a remonstrance: but these impertinen¬
ces were speedily checked by the evi¬
dence of the surgeon, and the testimony
of the beadle; the former of whom had
always opened the body, and found no¬
thing inside (which was very probable
indeed), and the latter of whom invaria¬
bly swore whatever the parish wanted,
which was very self-devotional. Besides,
the board made periodical pilgrimages to
the farm, and always sent the beadle the
day before, to say they were coming. The
when they went; and what more would
the people have?
It cannot be expected that this system
of farming would produce any very ex¬
traordinary or luxuriant crop. Oliver
T'wist’s eighth birth-day found him a pale,
thin child, somewhat diminutive in sta¬
ture, and decidedly small in circumfer¬
ence. But nature or inheritance had im¬
planted a good sturdy spirit in Oliver’s
breast ; it had plenty of room to expand,
thanks to the spare diet of the establish¬
ment; and perhaps to this circumstance
may be attributed his having any eighth
birth-day at all. Be this as it may, how¬
ever it was his eighth birth-day; and he
was keeping it in the coal-cellar with a
select party of two other young gentle¬
men, who, after participating with him in
a sound threshing, had been locked up
therein, for atrociously presuming to be
hungry, when Mrs. Mann, the good lady
of the house, was unexpectedly startled
by the apparition of Mr. Bumble the bea¬
dle, striving to undo the wicket of the
garden-gate.
“Goodness gracious! is that you, Mr.
Bumble, sir?” said Mrs. Mann, thrusting
her head out of the window in well-affect¬
ed ecstacies of joy. (Susan, take Oli¬
ver and them two brats up stairs, and
wash "em directly.)— My heart alive!
Mr. Bumble, how glad I am to see you
sure-ly !"
Now Mr. Bumble was a fat man, and a
choleric one; so, instead of responding to
this open-hearted salutation in a kindred
spirit, he gave the little wicket a tremen¬
dous shake, and then bestowed upon it a
kick, which could have emanated from ne
leg but a beadle’s,
“ Lor, only think,” said Mrs. Mann, run¬
ning out,—for the three boys had been re¬
moved by this time,—* only think of that!
That I should have forgotten that the gate
was bolted on the inside, on account of
them dear children! Walk in, sir; walk
in, pray, Mr. Bumble; do, sir.”
Although this invitation was accompa¬
nied with a curtsey that might have soft¬
ened the heart of a churchwarden, it by
no means mollified the beadle.
6 Do you think this respectful or proper
conduct, Mrs. Mann,” inquired Mr. Bum¬
ble, grasping his cane, — "to keep the
parish officers a-waiting at your garden
gate, when they come here on porochial
business connected with the porochial or¬
phans? Are you aware, Mrs. Mann, that
you are, as I may say, a porochial dele¬
gate, and a stipendiary ?”
Pm sure, Mr. Bumble, that I was only