Oldal 49 [49]
23
"you look pale and alarmed. What is the
matter !"
c Stand a little away from him, beadle,”
said the other magistrate, laying aside the
paper, and leaning forward with an ex¬
pression of some interest. ‘ Now, boy,
tell us what’s the matter: don’t be afraid.”
Oliver fell on his knees, and, clasping
his hands together, prayed that they would
order him back to the dark room,—that
they would starve 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 so¬
lemnity, — “ 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,
66 i beg your worship’s pardon,” said
Mr. Bumble, incredulous of his having
heard aright,—“ did your worship speak
to me!"
6 Yes—hold your tongue.”
Mr. Bumble was stupified with astonish¬
ment. 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 inden¬
tures,” said the old gentleman, tossing
aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.
s [ hope,” stammered Mr. Limbkins,—
4 [ 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 poe any opinion on the matter,”
said the second old gentleman sharply.
cc "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; to which Mr. Gamfield re¬
lied, that he wished he might come to
im, which, although he agreed with the
beadiv 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 aaybody who would take pos¬
Sussion of him,
CHAPTER THE FOURTH.
Oliver, being offered another place, makes his first
entry into public life.
In great families, when an advanta¬
geous place cannot be obtained, either in
possession, reversion, remainder, or ex¬
pectancy, for the young man who is grow¬
ing up, it is a very general custom to send
him to sea. The board, in imitation of so
wise and salutary an example, took coun¬
sel together on the expediency of ship¬
ping off Oliver Twist in some small trad¬
ing vessel bound to a good unhealthy port,
which suggested itself as the very best
thing that could possibly be done with
him; the probability being, that the skip¬
per would either flog him to death, ina
playful mood, some day after dinner, or
both pastimes being, as is pretty generally
known, very favourite and common re¬
creations 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 ap¬
peared; so they came to the conclusion
that the only way of providing for Oliver
effectually, was to send him to sea with¬
out delay. 8
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 just at
the gate no less a person than Mr. Sower¬
berry, the parochial undertaker.
Mr. Sowerberry was a tall, gaunt, large¬
jointed man, attired in a suit of thread¬
e 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 jo¬
cosity ; his step was elastic, and his face
betokened inward pleasantry, as he ad¬
dially by the hand.
“| have taken the measure of the two
women that died last night, Mr. Bumble,”
said the undertaker.
“ You ll make your fortune, Mr. Sow¬
erberry,” said the beadle, as he thrust hig
thumb and forefinger into the profiered
snufl-box of the undertaker, which was an
ingenious little model of a patent coffin.
“IT say you’ll make your fortune, Mr.
Sowerberry,” repeated Mr. Bumble, tap¬
ping the undertaker on the shoulder in @
friendly manner, with his cane.