takes refuge from "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by walking into the Regent's Canal.

Walker, Mr. An imprisoned debtor, inmate of Mr. Solomon Jacobs's private lock-up.

Willis, Mr. Another inmate of the same establishment.

THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING

Danton, Mr. A young man with a considerable stock of impudence, and a very small share of ideas, who passes for a wit. He is a friend of Mr. Kitterbell's, and a great favorite generally, especially with young ladies. Dumps, Mr. Nicodemus, called "LONG DUMPS." An old bachelor, never happy but when he is miserable, and always miserable when he has the best reason to be happy, and whose only real comfort is to make everybody about him wretched. He is uncle to Mr. Charles Kitterbell, and, having been invited to stand as godfather to that gentleman's infant son, reluctantly does so, but takes his revenge by suggesting the most dismal possibilities of sickness and accident, as altogether likely to happen to the child, and by making a speech at the supper after the christening, so lugubrious and full of gloomy forebodings as to throw Mrs. Kitterbell into violent hysterics, thus breaking up the party, and enabling him to walk home with a cheerful heart. Kitterbell, Mr. Charles. A small, sharp, spare man, with an extraordinarily large head and a cast in his eye; very credulous and matter-of-fact.

Kitterbell, Mrs. Jemima. His wife; a tall, thin young lady with very light hair, a particularly white face, a slight cough, and a languid smile.

Kitterbell, Master Frederick Charles William. Their first baby.

THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH

Tom. One of the officers who arrest young Warden. Warden. A confirmed and irreclaimable drunkard. Remorse, fear, and shame; the loss of friends, happiness, and station; the death of his wife from grief and care; the murder of one of his sons, whom he had driven from home in a drunken fit; his own betrayal of another son into the hangman's hands from a like cause; his final desertion by his daughter, who has stayed by him and supported him for years; the utmost extremity of poverty, disease, and houseless want, do not avail to conquer his fierce rage for drink, which drives him remorselessly on, until at last he seeks release in death by drowning himself in the Thames. Warden, Mary. His daughter.

Warden, William. His son. He avenges his brother's death by killing the gamekeeper who shot him; flees from justice to his father's solitary attic room in the obscurest portion of Whitefriars; is discovered by the officers in consequence of his father's getting intoxicated and betraying his hiding-place; and is seized, handcuffed, carried off, and made to suffer the penalty of his crime.

II

THE ADVENTURES OF OLIVER TWIST

OUTLINE

Chapter The hero of this tale was born in a workhouse; his moI ther, brought in the night before from the street, died on giving him birth, without making known her own history. In this forlorn substitute for a home the child was brought up. The parish beadle, Mr. Bumble, who named the foundlings in alphabetical order, presented him with the name of Oliver Twist, and for nine years Oliver knew no other home than the workhouse. At the end of that time the authorities proposed to let him out, as the phrase runs, as an apprentice, and were ready to pay three pounds ten to Mr. Gamfield, a chimney sweep, if he would thus take Oliver off their hands. Mr. Gamfield, who was not without a reputation for hard dealings with youngsters, and bore his reputation in his face, might have carried his point, if Oliver, terrified at the prospect, had not pleaded so piteously that a more humane member of the workhouse board refused to have the bargain carried out.

III

V

Bumble presently discovered a new chance to be rid of IV Oliver, and after a short consideration the little orphan was turned over to Mr. Sowerberry, the undertaker. Far below Mr. Sowerberry, but far above Oliver, were a charity-boy, Mister Noah Claypole, and a maid of all work, Charlotte, who rejoiced in having a lowlier worm than themselves to turn upon, and Oliver soon learned his situation. His master also began to make him useful, and was particularly pleased with the effect produced by the little chap as a mute or professional mourner.

VI

A month of probation passed, and then Oliver was regularly apprenticed. He was a meek, downtrodden creature, but one day Noah brutally taunted the memory of Oliver's dead mother, and the apprentice, stung into spirit, flew at the hulking coward and thrashed him to the content of the reader.

Although Mrs. Sowerberry and Charlotte immediately VII pounced on Oliver like a couple of hawks, his spirit had so enlarged the boy in their eyes that Noah Claypole was sent off for Mr. Bumble, rolling his story like a snowball into a mountainous

mass, so that Mr. Bumble came back with him and administered an official beating, after which Oliver was shut up on bread and water. At night the boy, thus flung away by his kind, crept out into the darkness and stole away, his only blessing the good-by of little Dick, one of his workhouse companions.

For five miles Oliver ran and stealthily eluded any chance VIII passer-by. Then he stopped to rest by a mile-stone which told him he was seventy miles from London. To the little fellow, frantically eager to escape, that great city seemed to offer the only final hiding-place, and he pushed on his way, footsore and hungry, helped by some, driven off by others, until he reached in the early morning the village of Barnet. Here he fell in with a swaggering youngster named Jack Dawkins, otherwise known as The Artful Dodger, who offered to escort him to London and make him acquainted with a very respectable old gentleman.

The very respectable old gentleman was one Fagin, a Jew, IX and his occupation was nothing other than that of a professional thief, who was, so to speak, at the head of a school of thieves, for he was surrounded by youngsters whom he was training in the art of pilfering and picking pockets.

When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old gentleman and the two boys played at a very curious and uncommon game, which was performed in this way. The merry old gentleman, placing a snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a notecase in the other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with a guard-chain round his neck, and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt, buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting his spectacle-case and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down the room with a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlemen walk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped at the fireplace, and sometimes at the door, making belief that he was staring with all his might into shop windows. At such times, he would look constantly round him, for fear of thieves, and keep slapping all his pockets in turn, to see that he had n't lost anything, in such a very funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed till the tears ran down his face. All this time, the two boys followed him closely about; getting out of his sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, that it was impossible to follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trod upon his toes, or ran upon his boot accidentally, while Charley Bates stumbled up against him behind; and in that one moment they took from him, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box, note-case, watch, guard-chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief - even the spectacle-case. If the old gentle

man felt a hand in any one of his pockets, he cried out where it was; and then the game began all over again.

When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of young ladies called to see the young gentlemen; one of whom was named Bet, and the other Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair, not very neatly turned up behind, and were rather untidy about the shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, perhaps; but they had a great deal of color in their faces, and looked quite stout and hearty. Being remarkably free and agreeable in their manners, Oliver thought them very nice girls indeed. As there is no doubt they were.

These visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were produced, in consequence of one of the young ladies complaining of a coldness in her inside; and the conversation took a very convivial and improving turn. At length, Charley Bates expressed his opinion that it was time to pad the hoof. This, it occurred to Oliver, must be French for going out; for, directly afterwards, the Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, went away together, having been kindly furnished by the amiable old Jew with money to spend.

"There, my dear," said Fagin. "That's a pleasant life, is n't it? They have gone out for the day."

"Have they done work, sir?" inquired Oliver.

"Yes," said the Jew; "that is, unless they should unexpectedly come across any, when they are out; and they won't neglect it, if they do, my dear: depend upon it."

"Make 'em your models, my dear. Make 'em your models," said the Jew, tapping the fire-shovel on the hearth to add force to his words; "do everything they bid you, and take their advice in all matters - especially the Dodger's, my dear. He'll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if you take pattern by him Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?" said the Jew, stopping short.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver.

"See if you can take it out, without my feeling it, them do, when we were at play this morning."

Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lightly out of it with the other.

"Is it gone?" cried the Jew.

"Here it is, sir," said Oliver, showing it in his hand.

"You're a clever boy, my dear," said the playful old gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. "I never saw a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you. If you go on in this