RELATES HOW OLIVER TWIST WAS VERY NEAR GETTING A PLACE WHICH WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN A SINE

For a week after the commission of the impious and profane offence ofrnasking for more, Oliver remained a close prisoner in the dark andrnsolitary room to which he had been consigned by the wisdom and mercy ofrnthe board. It appears, at first sight not unreasonable to suppose,rnthat, if he had entertained a becoming feeling of respect for thernprediction of the gentleman in the white waistcoat, he would havernestablished that sage individual’s prophetic character, once and forrnever, by tying one end of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in thernwall, and attaching himself to the other. To the performance of thisrnfeat, however, there was one obstacle: namely, thatrnpocket-handkerchiefs being decided articles of luxury, had been, forrnall future times and ages, removed from the noses of paupers by thernexpress order of the board, in council assembled: solemnly given andrnpronounced under their hands and seals. There was a still greaterrnobstacle in Oliver’s youth and childishness. He only cried bitterly allrnday; and, when the long, dismal night came on, spread his little handsrnbefore his eyes to shut out the darkness, and crouching in the corner,rntried to sleep: ever and anon waking with a start and tremble, andrndrawing himself closer and closer to the wall, as if to feel even itsrncold hard surface were a protection in the gloom and loneliness whichrnsurrounded him.rnrnLet it not be supposed by the enemies of “the system,” that, during thernperiod of his solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied the benefit ofrnexercise, the pleasure of society, or the advantages of religiousrnconsolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, and he wasrnallowed to perform his ablutions every morning under the pump, in arnstone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, who prevented his catchingrncold, and caused a tingling sensation to pervade his frame, by repeatedrnapplications of the cane. As for society, he was carried every otherrnday into the hall where the boys dined, and there sociably flogged as arnpublic warning and example. And so far from being denied the advantagesrnof religious consolation, he was kicked into the same apartment everyrnevening at prayer-time, and there permitted to listen to, and consolernhis mind with, a general supplication of the boys, containing a specialrnclause, therein inserted by authority of the board, in which theyrnentreated to be made good, virtuous, contented, and obedient, and to bernguarded from the sins and vices of Oliver Twist: whom the supplicationrndistinctly set forth to be under the exclusive patronage and protectionrnof the powers of wickedness, and an article direct from the manufactoryrnof the very Devil himself.rnrnIt chanced one morning, while Oliver’s affairs were in this auspiciousrnand comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, chimney-sweep, went his wayrndown the High Street, deeply cogitating in his mind his ways and meansrnof paying certain arrears of rent, for which his landlord had becomernrather pressing. Mr. Gamfield’s most sanguine estimate of his financesrncould not raise them within full five pounds of the desired amount;rnand, in a species of arithmetical desperation, he was alternatelyrncudgelling his brains and his donkey, when passing the workhouse, hisrneyes encountered the bill on the gate.rnrn“Wo—o!” said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey.rnrnThe donkey was in a state of profound abstraction: wondering, probably,rnwhether he was destined to be regaled with a cabbage-stalk or two whenrnhe had disposed of the two sacks of soot with which the little cart wasrnladen; so, without noticing the word of command, he jogged onward.rnrnMr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the donkey generally, butrnmore particularly on his eyes; and, running after him, bestowed a blowrnon his head, which would inevitably have beaten in any skull but arndonkey’s. Then, catching hold of the bridle, he gave his jaw a sharprnwrench, by way of gentle reminder that he was not his own master; andrnby these means turned him round. He then gave him another blow on thernhead, just to stun him till he came back again. Having completed thesernarrangements, he walked up to the gate, to read the bill.rnrnThe gentleman with the white waistcoat was standing at the gate withrnhis hands behind him, after having delivered himself of some profoundrnsentiments in the board-room. Having witnessed the little disputernbetween Mr. Gamfield and the donkey, he smiled joyously when thatrnperson came up to read the bill, for he saw at once that Mr. Gamfieldrnwas exactly the sort of master Oliver Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfieldrnsmiled, too, as he perused the document; for five pounds was just thernsum he had been wishing for; and, as to the boy with which it wasrnencumbered, Mr. Gamfield, knowing what the dietary of the workhousernwas, well knew he would be a nice small pattern, just the very thingrnfor register stoves. So, he spelt the bill through again, fromrnbeginning to end; and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility,rnaccosted the gentleman in the white waistcoat.rnrn“This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to ’prentis,” said Mr.rnGamfield.rnrn“Ay, my man,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, with arncondescending smile. “What of him?”rnrn“If the parish vould like him to learn a right pleasant trade, in arngood ’spectable chimbley-sweepin’ bisness,” said Mr. Gamfield, “I wantsrna ’prentis, and I am ready to take him.”rnrn“Walk in,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. Mr. Gamfieldrnhaving lingered behind, to give the donkey another blow on the head,rnand another wrench of the jaw, as a caution not to run away in hisrnabsence, followed the gentleman with the white waistcoat into the roomrnwhere Oliver had first seen him.rnrn“It’s a nasty trade,” said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had again statedrnhis wish.rnrn“Young boys have been smothered in chimneys before now,” said anotherrngentleman.rnrn“That’s acause they damped the straw afore they lit it in the chimbleyrnto make ’em come down again,” said Gamfield; “that’s all smoke, and nornblaze; vereas smoke ain’t o’ no use at all in making a boy come down,rnfor it only sinds him to sleep, and that’s wot he likes. Boys is weryrnobstinit, and wery lazy, Gen’l’men, and there’s nothink like a good hotrnblaze to make ’em come down vith a run. It’s humane too, gen’l’men,rnacause, even if they’ve stuck in the chimbley, roasting their feetrnmakes ’em struggle to hextricate theirselves.”rnrnThe gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very much amused by thisrnexplanation; but his mirth was speedily checked by a look from Mr.rnLimbkins. The board then proceeded to converse among themselves for arnfew minutes, but in so low a tone, that the words “saving ofrnexpenditure,” “looked well in the accounts,” “have a printed reportrnpublished,” were alone audible. These only chanced to be heard, indeed,rnon account of their being very frequently repeated with great emphasis.rnrnAt length the whispering ceased; and the members of the board, havingrnresumed their seats and their solemnity, Mr. Limbkins said:rnrn“We have considered your proposition, and we don’t approve of it.”rnrn“Not at all,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.rnrn“Decidedly not,” added the other members.rnrnAs Mr. Gamfield did happen to labour under the slight imputation ofrnhaving bruised three or four boys to death already, it occurred to himrnthat the board had, perhaps, in some unaccountable freak, taken it intorntheir heads that this extraneous circumstance ought to influence theirrnproceedings. It was very unlike their general mode of doing business,rnif they had; but still, as he had no particular wish to revive thernrumour, he twisted his cap in his hands, and walked slowly from therntable.rnrn“So you won’t let me have him, gen’l’men?” said Mr. Gamfield, pausingrnnear the door.rnrn“No,” replied Mr. Limbkins; “at least, as it’s a nasty business, wernthink you ought to take something less than the premium we offered.”rnrnMr. Gamfield’s countenance brightened, as, with a quick step, hernreturned to the table, and said,rnrn“What’ll you give, gen’l’men? Come! Don’t be too hard on a poor man.rnWhat’ll you give?”rnrn“I should say, three pound ten was plenty,” said Mr. Limbkins.rnrn“Ten shillings too much,” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.rnrn“Come!” said Gamfield; “say four pound, gen’l’men. Say four pound, andrnyou’ve got rid of him for good and all. There!”rnrn“Three pound ten,” repeated Mr. Limbkins, firmly.rnrn“Come! I’ll split the diff’erence, gen’l’men,” urged Gamfield. “Threernpound fifteen.”rnrn“Not a farthing more,” was the firm reply of Mr. Limbkins.rnrn“You’re desperate hard upon me, gen’l’men,” said Gamfield, wavering.rnrn“Pooh! pooh! nonsense!” said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.“He’d be cheap with nothing at all, as a premium. Take him, you sillyrnfellow! He’s just the boy for you. He wants the stick, now and then:rnit’ll do him good; and his board needn’t come very expensive, for hernhasn’t been overfed since he was born. Ha! ha! ha!”rnrnMr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round the table, and,rnobserving a smile on all of them, gradually broke into a smile himself.rnThe bargain was made. Mr. Bumble, was at once instructed that OliverrnTwist and his indentures were to be conveyed before the magistrate, forrnsignature and approval, that very afternoon.rnrnIn pursuance of this determination, little Oliver, to his excessivernastonishment, was released from bondage, and ordered to put himselfrninto a clean shirt. He had hardly achieved this very unusual gymnasticrnperformance, when Mr. Bumble brought him, with his own hands, a basinrnof gruel, and the holiday allowance of two ounces and a quarter ofrnbread. At this tremendous sight, Oliver began to cry very piteously:rnthinking, not unnaturally, that the board must have determined to killrnhim for some useful purpose, or they never would have begun to fattenrnhim up in that way.rnrn“Don’t make your eyes red, Oliver, but eat your food and be thankful,”rnsaid Mr. Bumble, in a tone of impressive pomposity. “You’re a going tornbe made a ’prentice of, Oliver.”rnrn“A prentice, sir!” said the child, trembling.rnrn“Yes, Oliver,” said Mr. Bumble. “The kind and blessed gentleman whichrnis so many parents to you, Oliver, when you have none of your own: arerna going to “prentice” you: and to set you up in life, and make a man ofrnyou: although the expense to the parish is three pound ten!—three poundrnten, Oliver!—seventy shillins—one hundred and forty sixpences!—and allrnfor a naughty orphan which nobody can’t love.”rnrnAs Mr. Bumble paused to take breath, after delivering this address inrnan awful voice, the tears rolled down the poor child’s face, and hernsobbed bitterly.rnrn“Come,” said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously, for it was gratifyingrnto his feelings to observe the effect his eloquence had produced;“Come, Oliver! Wipe your eyes with the cuffs of your jacket, and don’trncry into your gruel; that’s a very foolish action, Oliver.” Itrncertainly was, for there was quite enough water in it already.rnrnOn their way to the magistrate, Mr. Bumble instructed Oliver that allrnhe would have to do, would be to look very happy, and say, when therngentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed, that he should likernit very much indeed; both of which injunctions Oliver promised to obey:rnthe rather as Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle hint, that if he failed inrneither particular, there was no telling what would be done to him. Whenrnthey arrived at the office, he was shut up in a little room by himself,rnand admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there, until he came back to fetchrnhim.rnrnThere the boy remained, with a palpitating heart, for half an hour. Atrnthe expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in his head, unadornedrnwith the cocked hat, and said aloud:rnrn“Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman.” As Mr. Bumble said this,rnhe put on a grim and threatening look, and added, in a low voice, “Mindrnwhat I told you, you young rascal!”rnrnOliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble’s face at this somewhatrncontradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented hisrnoffering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once into an adjoiningrnroom: the door of which was open. It was a large room, with a greatrnwindow. Behind a desk, sat two old gentleman with powdered heads: onernof whom was reading the newspaper; while the other was perusing, withrnthe aid of a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece ofrnparchment which lay before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing in front ofrnthe desk on one side; and Mr. Gamfield, with a partially washed face,rnon the other; while two or three bluff-looking men, in top-boots, werernlounging about.rnrnThe old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off, over thernlittle bit of parchment; and there was a short pause, after Oliver hadrnbeen stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the desk.rnrn“This is the boy, your worship,” said Mr. Bumble.rnrnThe old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised his head for arnmoment, and pulled the other old gentleman by the sleeve; whereupon,rnthe last-mentioned old gentleman woke up.rnrn“Oh, is this the boy?” said the old gentleman.rnrn“This is him, sir,” replied Mr. Bumble. “Bow to the magistrate, myrndear.”rnrnOliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He had beenrnwondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrates’ powder, whether allrnboards were born with that white stuff on their heads, and were boardsrnfrom thenceforth on that account.rnrn“Well,” said the old gentleman, “I suppose he’s fond ofrnchimney-sweeping?”rnrn“He doats on it, your worship,” replied Bumble; giving Oliver a slyrnpinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn’t.rnrn“And he _will_ be a sweep, will he?” inquired the old gentleman.rnrn“If we was to bind him to any other trade tomorrow, he’d run awayrnsimultaneous, your worship,” replied Bumble.rnrn“And this man that’s to be his master—you, sir—you’ll treat him well,rnand feed him, and do all that sort of thing, will you?” said the oldrngentleman.rnrn“When I says I will, I means I will,” replied Mr. Gamfield doggedly.rnrn“You’re a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest,rnopen-hearted man,” said the old gentleman: turning his spectacles inrnthe direction of the candidate for Oliver’s premium, whose villainousrncountenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty. But thernmagistrate was half blind and half childish, so he couldn’t reasonablyrnbe expected to discern what other people did.rnrn“I hope I am, sir,” said Mr. Gamfield, with an ugly leer.rnrn“I have no doubt you are, my friend,” replied the old gentleman: fixingrnhis spectacles more firmly on his nose, and looking about him for therninkstand.rnrnIt was the critical moment of Oliver’s fate. If the inkstand had beenrnwhere the old gentleman thought it was, he would have dipped his penrninto it, and signed the indentures, and Oliver would have beenrnstraightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to be immediately under hisrnnose, it followed, as a matter of course, that he looked all over hisrndesk for it, without finding it; and happening in the course of hisrnsearch to look straight before him, his gaze encountered the pale andrnterrified face of Oliver Twist: who, despite all the admonitory looksrnand pinches of Bumble, was regarding the repulsive countenance of hisrnfuture master, with a mingled expression of horror and fear, toornpalpable to be mistaken, even by a half-blind magistrate.rnrnThe old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked from Oliver tornMr. Limbkins; who attempted to take snuff with a cheerful andrnunconcerned aspect.rnrn“My boy!” said the old gentleman, “you look pale and alarmed. What isrnthe matter?”rnrn“Stand a little away from him, Beadle,” said the other magistrate:rnlaying aside the paper, and leaning forward with an expression ofrninterest. “Now, boy, tell us what’s the matter: don’t be afraid.”rnrnOliver fell on his knees, and clasping his hands together, prayed thatrnthey would order him back to the dark room—that they would starvernhim—beat him—kill him if they pleased—rather than send him away withrnthat dreadful man.rnrn“Well!” said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with mostrnimpressive solemnity. “Well! of all the artful and designing orphansrnthat ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest.”rnrn“Hold your tongue, Beadle,” said the second old gentleman, when Mr.rnBumble had given vent to this compound adjective.rnrn“I beg your worship’s pardon,” said Mr. Bumble, incredulous of havingrnheard aright. “Did your worship speak to me?”rnrn“Yes. Hold your tongue.”rnrnMr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle ordered to holdrnhis tongue! A moral revolution!rnrnThe old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at hisrncompanion, he nodded significantly.rnrn“We refuse to sanction these indentures,” said the old gentleman:rntossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.rnrn“I hope,” stammered Mr. Limbkins: “I hope the magistrates will not formrnthe opinion that the authorities have been guilty of any improperrnconduct, on the unsupported testimony of a child.”rnrn“The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion on thernmatter,” said the second old gentleman sharply. “Take the boy back tornthe workhouse, and treat him kindly. He seems to want it.”rnrnThat same evening, the gentleman in the white waistcoat most positivelyrnand decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be hung, but that hernwould be drawn and quartered into the bargain. Mr. Bumble shook hisrnhead with gloomy mystery, and said he wished he might come to good;rnwhereunto Mr. Gamfield replied, that he wished he might come to him;rnwhich, although he agreed with the beadle in most matters, would seemrnto be a wish of a totally opposite description.rnrnThe next morning, the public were once informed that Oliver Twist wasrnagain to let, and that five pounds would be paid to anybody who wouldrntake possession of him.