Oliver Twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-4

jacket, and don’t cry into your gruel; that’s a very foolish action,Oliver.” It certainly was, for there was quite enough water in italready.On their way to the magistrate, Mr. Bumble instructed Oliverthat all he would have to do, would be to look very happy, and say,when the gentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed,that he should like it very much indeed; both of which injunctionsOliver promised to obey: the rather as Mr. Bumble threw in agentle hint, that if he failed in either particular, there was notelling what would be done to him. When they arrived at the office,he was shut up in a little room by himself, and admonished by Mr.Bumble to stay there, until he came back to fetch him.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver TwistThere the boy remained, with a palpitating heart, for half anhour. At the expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in hishead, unadorned with the cocked hat, and said aloud:“Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman.” As Mr. Bumblesaid this, he put on a grim and threatening look, and added, in alow voice, “Mind what I told you, you young rascal!”Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble’s face at this somewhatcontradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented hisoffering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once into anadjoining room, the door of which was open. It was a large room,with a great window. Behind a desk, sat two gentlemen withpowdered heads: one of whom was reading the newspaper; whilethe other was perusing, with the aid of a pair of tortoise-shellspectacles, a small piece of parchment which lay before him. Mr.Limbkins was standing in front of the desk on one side, and Mr.Gamfield, with a partially washed face on the other; while two orthree bluff-looking men, in top-boots, were lounging about.The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off overthe little bit of parchment; and there was a short pause, afterOliver had been stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the desk.“This is the boy, your worship,” said Mr. Bumble.The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised hishead for a moment, and pulled the other old gentleman by thesleeve; whereupon, the last-mentioned old gentleman woke up.“Oh, is this the boy?” said the old gentleman.“This is him, sir,” replied Mr. Bumble. “Bow to the magistrate,my dear.”Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He hadbeen wondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrates’ powder,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistwhether all Boards were born with that white stuff on their heads,and were Boards from thenceforth on that account.“Well,” said the old gentleman, “I suppose he’s fond ofchimney-sweeping?”“He dotes on it, your worship,” replied Bumble; giving Oliver asly pinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn’t.“And he will be a sweep, will he?” inquired the old gentleman.“If we was to bind him to any other trade tomorrow, he’d runaway simultaneous, your worship,” replied Bumble“And this man that’s to be his master—you, sir—you’ll treathim well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing, will you?”said the old gentleman.“When I says I will, I means I will,” replied Mr. Gamfielddoggedly.“You’re a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest,open-hearted man,” said the old gentleman, turning his spectaclesin the direction of the candidate for Oliver’s premium, whosevillainous countenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty.But the magistrate was half-blind and half-childish, so he couldn’treasonably be expected to discern what other people did.“I hope I am, sir,” said Mr. Gamfield, with an ugly leer.“I have no doubt you are, my friend,” replied the oldgentleman, fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose, andlooking about him for the ink-stand.It was the critical moment of Oliver’s fate. If the ink-stand hadbeen where the old gentleman thought’ it was, he would havedipped his pen into it, and signed the indentures; and Oliverwould have been straightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to beimmediately under his nose, it followed, as a matter of course, thatCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twisthe looked all over his desk for it, without finding it; and happeningin the course of his speech to look straight before him, his gazeencountered the pale and terrified face of Oliver Twist, who,despite all the admonitory looks and pinches of Bumble, wasregarding the repulsive countenance of his future master, with amingled expression of horror and fear, too palpable to bemistaken, even by a half-blind magistrate.The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked fromOliver to Mr. Limbkins, who attempted to take snuff with acheerful and unconcerned aspect.“My boy!” said the old gentleman, leaning over the desk. Oliverstarted at the sound. He might be excused for doing so, for thewords were kindly said, and strange sounds frighten one. Hetrembled violently, and burst into tears.“My boy!” said the old gentleman, “you look pale and alarmed.What is the matter?”“Stand a little away from him, beadle,” said the othermagistrate, laying aside the paper, and leaning forward with anexpression of interest. “Now, boy, tell us what’s the matter—don’tbe afraid.”Oliver fell on his knees, and clasped his hands together, prayedthat they would order him back to the dark room—that they wouldstarve him—beat him—kill him if they pleased—rather than sendhim away with that dreadful man.“Well!” said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with mostimpressive solemnity. “Well! of all the artful and designingorphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most barefacedest.”“Hold your tongue, beadle,” said the second old gentleman,Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistwhen Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective.“I beg your worship’s pardon,” said Mr. Bumble, incredulous ofhis having heard aright. “Did your worship speak to me?“Yes. Hold your tongue.”Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle orderedto hold his tongue! A moral revolution! The old gentleman in thetortoise-shell spectacles looked at his companion; he noddedsignificantly.“We refuse to sanction these indentures,” said the oldgentleman, tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.“I hope,” stammered Mr. Limbkins, “I hope the magistrates willnot form the opinion that the authorities have been guilty of anyimproper conduct, on the unsupported testimony of a mere child.”“The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinionon the matter,” said the second old gentleman sharply. “Take theboy back to the workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems towant it.”That same evening, the gentleman in the white waistcoat mostpositively and decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would behung, but that he would be drawn and quartered into the bargain.Mr. Bumble shook his head with gloomy mystery, and said hewished he might come to good; whereunto Mr. Gamfield repliedthat he wished he might come to him; which, although he agreedwith the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of atotally opposite description. The next morning, the public wereonce more informed that Oliver Twist was again To Let; and thatfive pounds would be paid to anybody who would take possessionof him.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver TwistChapter 4Oliver, Being Offered Another Place, Makes HisFirst Entry Into Public Life.In great families, when an advantageous place cannot beobtained, either in possession, reversion, remainder, orexpectancy, for the young man who is growing up, it is a verygeneral custom to send him to sea. The Board, in imitation of sowise and salutary an example, took counsel together on theexpediency of shipping off Oliver Twist, in some small tradingvessel bound to a good unhealthy port; which suggested itself asthe very best thing that could possibly be done with him: theprobability being, that the skipper would flog him to death, in aplayful mood, some day after dinner, or would knock his brainsout with an iron bar; both pastimes being, as is pretty generallyknown, very favourite and common recreations among gentlemenof that class. The more the case presented itself to the Board, inthis point of view, the more manifold the advantages of the stepappeared; so, they come to the conclusion that the only way ofproviding for Oliver effectually, was to send him to sea withoutdelay.Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminaryinquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other whowanted a cabin-boy without any friends; and was returning to theworkhouse to communicate the result of his mission, when heencountered at the gate, no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, theparochial undertaker.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver TwistMr Sowerberry was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, attired in asuit of threadbare black with darned cotton stockings of the samecolour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturallyintended to wear a smiling aspect, but he was in general rathergiven to professional jocosity. His step was elastic, and his facebetokened inward pleasantry, as he advanced to Mr. Bumble, andshook him cordially by the hand.“I have taken the measure of the two women that died lastnight, Mr. Bumble,” said the undertaker.“You’ll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,” said the beadle, ashe thrust his thumb and forefinger into the proffered snuff-box ofthe undertaker: which was an ingenious little model of a patentcoffin. “I say you’ll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,” repeatedMr. Bumble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder, in a friendlymanner, with his cane.“Think so?” said the undertaker, in a tone which half-admittedand half-disputed the probability of the event. “The prices allowedby the Board are very small, Mr. Bumble.”“So are the coffins,” replied the beadle, with precisely as nearthe approach to a laugh as a great official ought to indulge in.Mr. Sowerberry was much tickled at this—as of course he oughtto be-and laughed a long time without cessation. “Well, well, Mr.Bumble,” he said at length, “there’s no denying that, since the newsystem of feeding has come in, the coffins are something narrowerand more shallow than they used to be; but we must have someprofit, Mr. Bumble. Well-seasoned timber is an expensive article,sir; and all the iron handles come, by canal, from Birmingham.”“Well, well,” said Mr. Bumble, “every trade has its drawbacks.A fair profit is, of course, allowable.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist“Of course, of course,” replied the undertaker; “and if I don’tget a profit upon this or that particular article, why, I make it up inthe long run, you see—he! he! he!”“Just so,” said Mr. Bumble.“Though I must say,” continued the undertaker, resuming thecurrent of observations which the beadle had interrupted, “thoughI must say, Mr. Bumble, that I have to contend against one verygreat disadvantage: which is, that all the stout people go off thequickest. The people who have been better off, and have paid ratesfor many years, are the first to sink when they come into thehouse; and let me tell you, Mr. Bumble, that three or four inchesover one’s calculation makes a great hole in one’s profits:especially when one has a family to provide for, sir.”As Mr. Sowerberry said this, with the becoming indignation ofan ill-used man; and as Mr. Bumble felt that it rather tended toconvey a reflection on the honour of the parish; the lattergentleman thought it advisable to change the subject. Oliver Twistbeing uppermost in his mind, he made him his theme.“By the bye, said Mr. Bumble, “you don’t know anybody whowants a boy, do you? A porochial ’prentis, who is at present adead-weight; a millstone, as I may say; round the porochial throat?Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry, liberal terms!”As Mr. Bumble spoke, he raised his cane to the bill above him,and gave three distinct raps upon the words “five pounds”: whichwere printed thereon in Roman capitals of gigantic size.“Gadso!” said the undertaker, taking Mr. Bumble by the gilt-edged lapel of his official coat; “that’s just the very thing I wantedto speak to you about. You know—dear me, what a very elegantbutton this is, Mr. Bumble! I never noticed it before.”Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist“Yes, I think it is rather pretty,” said the beadle, glancingproudly downwards at the large brass buttons which embellishedhis coat. “The die is the same as the porochial seal—the GoodSamaritan healing the sick, and bruised man. The Boardpresented it to me on New Year s morning, Mr. Sowerberry. I putit on, I remember, for the first time, to attend the inquest on thatreduced tradesman, who died in a doorway at midnight.”“I recollect,” said the undertaker. “The jury brought it in, ‘Diedfrom exposure to the cold, and want of the common necessaries oflife, didn’t they?”Mr. Bumble nodded.“And they made it a special verdict, I think,” said theundertaker, “by adding some words to the effect, that if therelieving officer had—”“Tush! Foolery!” interposed the beadle. “If the Board attendedto all the nonsense that ignorant jurymen talk, they’d have enoughto do.”“Very true,” said the undertaker; “they would indeed.”“Juries,” said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, as was hiswont when working into a passion, “juries is ineddicated, vulgar,grovelling wretches.”“So they are,” said the undertaker.“They haven’t no more philosophy nor political economy about’em than that,” said the beadle, snapping his fingerscontemptuously.“No more they have,” acquiesced the undertaker.“I despise ’em,” said the beadle, growing very red in the face.“So do I,” rejoined the undertaker.“And I only wish we’d a jury of the independent sort in theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twisthouse for a week or two,” said the beadle; “the rules andregulations of the Board would soon bring their spirit down for’em.”“Let ’em alone for that,” replied the undertaker. So saying, hesmiled approvingly, to calm the rising wrath of the indignantparish officer.Mr. Bumble lifted off his cocked hat; took a handkerchief fromthe inside of the crown; wiped from his forehead the perspirationwhich his rage had engendered; fixed the cocked hat on again;and, turning to the undertaker, said in a calmer voice:“Well, what about the boy?”“Oh!” replied the undertaker; “why, you know Mr. Bumble, Ipay a good deal towards the poor’s rates.”“Hem!” said Mr. Bumble, “Well?”“Well,” replied the undertaker, “I was thinking that if I pay somuch towards ’em, I’ve a right to get as much out of ’em as I can,Mr. Bumble; and so—and so—I think I’ll take the boy myself.”Mr. Bumble grasped the undertaker by the arm, and led himinto the building. Mr. Sowerberry was closeted with the Board forfive minutes; and it was arranged that Oliver should go to him thatevening “upon liking”—a phrase which means, in the case of aparish apprentice, that if the master find, upon a short trial, thathe can get enough work out of a boy without putting too muchfood into him, he shall have him for a term of years, to do what helikes with.When little Oliver was taken before “the gentlemen” thatevening, and informed that he was to go, that night, as generalhouse-lad to a coffin-maker’s; and that if he complained of hissituation, or ever came back to the parish again, he would be sentCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistto sea, there to be drowned or knocked on the head, as the casemight be, he evinced so little emotion, that they by commonconsent pronounced him a hardened young rascal, and ordered