Oldal 113 [113]
OCR
73 ed walls and cornices to the ceilings, which, alt they were black with neglect and dust, were ornamented in various ways; from all of which tokens Oliver concluded that a long time ago, before the old Jew was born, it had belonged to better people, and had perhaps been quite gay and handsome, dismal and as it looked now. — Spiders had built their webs in the angles of the walls and ceilings; and sometimes, when Oliver walked softly into a room, the mice would scamper across the floor, and run back terrified to their holes: with these exceptions, there was neither sight nor sound of any living thing ; and often, when it grew dark, and he was tired of wandering from room to room, he would crouch in the corner of the passage by the street-door, to be as near living people as he could, and to remain there listening and trembling until the Jew or the boys returned. In all the rooms the mouldering shutters were fast closed, and the bars which held them were screwed tight into the wood; the only light which was admitted making its wa ugh round holes at the top, which made the rooms more gloomy, and filled them with strange shadows. ‘There was a back-earret window, with rusty bars outside, which had no shutter, and out of which Oliver often gazed with a melancholy face for hours together; but nothing was to be descried from it but a confused and crowded mass of house-tops, blackened chimneys, and gable-ends. Sometimes, indeed, a ragged begat head might be seen peering over parapet-wall of a distant house, but it was quickly withdrawn again ; and as the window of Oliver’s observatory was nailed down, and dimmed with the rain and smoke of years, it was as much as he could do to make out the forms of the different objects beyond, without any attempt to be seen or heard,—which he had as much chance of being as if he had been inside the ball of St. Paul’s Cathedral. One afternoon, the Dodger and Master Bates being engaged out that evening, the first-named young gentleman took it into his head to evince some anxiety regarding the decoration of his person (which, to do him justice, was by no means an habitual weakness with him;) and, with this end and aim, he condescendingly commanded Oliver to assist him in his toilet straightway. Oliver was but too glad to make himself useful, too happy to have some faces, however bad, to look upon, and too desirous to conciliate those about him when he could honestly do so, to throw any objection in the way of this proposal; so he at once expressed his readiness, and, kneeling on the floor, while the Dodger sat upon the table so that he could take his foot in his lap, he applied himself to a process which Mr. Dawkins design ted as “japanning his trotter-cases,’ and which phrase, rendered into plain English, signifieth cleaning his boots. Whether it was the sense of freedom and independence which a rational animal may be supposed to feel when he sits on a table in an easy attitude, smoking a pipe, swinging one leg carelessly to and fro, and having his boots cleaned all the time without even the past trouble of having taken them off, or the p tive misery of putting them on, to disturb his reflections; or whether it was the ness of the tobacco that soothed the feelings of the Dodger, or the mildness of the beer that mollified his thoughts, he was evidently tinctured for the nonce with a spice of romance and enthusiasm foreign to his general nature. He looked down on Oliver with a thoughtful countenance for a brief space, and then, raising his head, and heaving a tle sigh, said, half in abstraction, half to Master Bates. “ What a pity it is he isn’t a prig !” 6 Ah!” said Master Charles Bates. 4 He don’t know what’s good for him.” The Dodger aged again, and resumed his pipe, as did Charley Bates, and they both smoked for some seconds in silence. “Tsu you don’t even know what a prig is?" said the Dodger mournfully. 6 [ think I know that,” replied Oliver, hastily looking up. “It’s a th— ; you re one, are you not ?” inquired Oliver, checking himself. | “T am,” replied the Dodger. “I’d scorn to be anything else.” Mr. Dawkins gave his hat a ferocious cock after delivering this sentiment, and looked at Master Bates as if to denote that he would feel obliged by his saying anything to the contrary. “I am,” repeated the Dodger; " sos Charley; so’s Fagin; so’s Sikes, so’s Nancy; so’s Bet; so we all are, Jown to the dog, and he’s the downiest one of the lot.” “And the least given to peaching,” added Charley Bates. “ He wouldn’t se much as bark in a witness-box, for fear of committing himself; no, not if you tied him “ip in one,
