Stranica 68 [68]
40
c Where did he come from ?”
“Greenland, Is Fagin up stairs ?”
“ Yes, he’s a sortin’ the wipes. Up
with vou!” The candle was drawn back,
and the face disappeared,
Oliver, groping his way with one hand,
and with the other firmly grasped by his
companion, ascended with much difficulty
the dark and broken stairs which his con¬
ductor mounted with an ease and expedi¬
tion that showed he was well acquainted
with them. He threw open the door of a
noone and drew Oliver in after
im.
The walls and ceiling of the room were
perfectly black with age and dirt. There
was a deal-table before the fire, upon which
was a candle stuck in a ginger-beer bot¬
tle; two or three pewter pots, a loaf and
butter, and a plate. In a frying-pan which
was on the fire, and which was secured
to the mantel-piece by a strmg, some sau¬
sages were cooking; and standing over
them, with a toasting-fork in his hand,
was a very old shrivelled Jew, whose vil¬
lanous-looking and repulsive face was ob¬
scured by a quantity of matted red hair.
He was dressed in a greasy flannel gown,
with his throat bare, and seemed to be
dividing his attention between the frying¬
pan and a clothes-horse, over which a
eat number of silk handkerchiefs were
anging. Several rough beds made of
old sacks were huddled side by side on
the floor: and seated round the table were
four or five boys, none older than the
Dodger, smoking long clay pipes and
drinking spirits with all the air of middle¬
aged men. These all crowded about their
associate as he whispered a few words to
the Jew, and then turned round and grin¬
ned at Oliver, as did the Jew himself,
toasting-fork in hand.
4 This is him, Fagin,” said Jack Daw¬
kins; “my friend, Oliver Twist."
The Jew grinned; and, making a low
obeisance to Oliver, took him by the hand,
and hoped he should have the honour of
his intimate acquaintance. Upon this, the
young gentlemen with the pipes came
round him, and shook both his hands very
hard,—especially the one in which he held
his little bundle. One young gentleman
was very anxious to hang up his cap for
him; and another was so obliging as to
put his hands im his pockets, in order that,
as he was very tired, he might not have
the trouble of emptying them when he
went to bed. ‘These civilities would pro¬
bably have been extended much further,
but for a liberal exercise of the Jew’s
of the affectionate youths who offered
them.
“We are very glad to see you, Oliver,
—-very," said the Jew. “Dodger, take
off the sausages, and draw a tub near the
fire for Oliver. Ah! you’re a staring at
the pocket-handkerchiefs! eh, my dear!
There are a many of ’em, ain’t there?
We’ve just looked Jem out ready for the
wash; that’s all, Oliver; that’s all. Ha!
ha! ha!” |
The latter part of this speech was hail¬
ed by a boisterous shout from all the hope¬
ful pupils of the merry old gentleman, in
the midst of which they went to supper.
Oliver ate his share; and the Jew then
mixed him a glass of hot gin and water,
telling him he must drink it off directly,
because another gentleman wanted the
tumbler. Oliver did as he was desired.
Almost instantly afterwards, he felt him¬
self gently lifted on to one of the sacks,
and then he sunk into a deep sleep.
SS e———— —
CHAPTER THE NINTH.
Containing further particulars concerning the plea-"
sant old gentleman und his hopeful pupils.
Ir was late next morning when Oliver
awoke from a sound, long sleep. There
was nobody in the room beside, but the
old Jew, who was boiling some coffee in
a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling
softly to himself as he stirred it round and
round with an iron spoon. He would stop
every now and then to listen, when there
was the least noise below; and, when he
had satisfied himself, he would go on
whistling and stirring again as before.
Although Oliver had roused himself
from sleep, he was not thoroughly awake.
There is a drowsy, heavy state, between
sleeping and waking, when you dream
more in five minutes with your eyes: half
open, and yourself half conscious of every¬
thing that is passing around you, than you
would in five nights with your eyes fast
closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect
unconsciousness. At such times, a mortal
knows just enough of what his mind is
doing, to form some glimmering concep¬
tion of its mighty powers, its bounding
from earth and spurning time and space,
when freed from the irksome restraint
of its corporeal associate.
Oliver was precisely in the condition I
have described. He saw the Jew with his
half-closed eyes, heard his low whistling,
and recognised the sound of the spoon
grating against the saucepan’s sides; and