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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第16部分

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“Do you live in London?” inquired Oliver。 

“Yes。 I do; when I’m at home;” replied the boy。 “I suppose you 
want some place to sleep in tonight; don’t you?” 

“I do; indeed;” answered Oliver。 “I have not slept under a roof 
since I left the country。” 

“Don’t fret your eyelids on that score;” said the young 
gentleman。 “I’ve got to be in London tonight; and I know a 
’spectable old gentleman as lives there; wot’ll give you lodgings for 
nothink; and never ask for the change—that is; if any gentleman 
he knows interduces you。 And don’t he know me? Oh; no! Not in 
the least! By no means。 Certainly not!” The young gentleman 
smiled; as if to intimate that the latter fragments of discourse were 
playfully ironical; and finished the beer as he did so。 

This unexpected offer of shelter was too tempting to be 
resisted; especially as it was immediately followed up; by the 
assurance that the old gentleman referred to; would doubtless 
provide Oliver with a comfortable place; without loss of time This 
led to a more friendly and confidential dialogue; from which Oliver 
discovered that his friend’s name was Jack Dawkins; and that he 
was a peculiar pet and protégé of the elderly gentleman before 
mentioned。 

Mr。 Dawkins’ appearance did not say a vast deal in favour of the 

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics 


Oliver Twist 

comforts which his patron’s interest obtained for those whom he 
took under his protection; but; as he had a rather flighty and 
dissolute mode of conversing; and furthermore avowed that 
among his intimate friends he was better known by the sobriquet 
of “The Artful Dodger;” Oliver concluded that; being of a 
dissipated and careless turn; the moral precept of his benefactor 
had hitherto been thrown away upon him。 Under this impression; 
he secretly resolved to cultivate the good opinion of the old 
gentleman as quickly as possible; and; if he found the Dodger 
incorrigible; as he more than half…suspected he should; to decline 
the honour of his further acquaintance。 

As John Dawkins objected to their entering London before 
nightfall; it was nearly seven o’clock when they reached the 
turnpike at Islington。 They crossed from the Angel into St。 John’s 
Road; struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler’s 
Wells Theatre; through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row; down 
the little court by the side of the workhouse; across the classic 
ground which once bore the name of Hockley…in…the…Hole; thence 
into Little Saffron Hill; and so into Saffron Hill the Great; along 
which the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace; directing Oliver to 
follow close at his heels。 

Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attention in keeping 
sight of his leader; he could not help bestowing a few hasty glances 
on either side of the way; as he passed along。 A dirtier or more 
wretched place he had never seen。 The street was very narrow 
and muddy; and the air was impregnated with filthy odours。 There 
were a good many small shops; but the only stock in trade 
appeared to be heaps of children; who; even at that time of night; 
were crawling in and out at the doors; or screaming from the 

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics 


Oliver Twist 

inside。 The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general 
blight of the place; were the public…houses; and in them; the lowest 
orders of Irish were wrangling with might and main。 Covered 
ways and yards; where here and there diverged from the main 
street; disclosed little knots of houses; where drunken men and 
women were positively wallowing in filth; and from several of the 
doorways; great ill…looking fellows were cautiously emerging; 
bound; to all appearance; on no very well…disposed or harmless 
errands。 

Oliver was just considering whether he hadn’t better run away; 
when they reached the bottom of the hill。 His conductor; catching 
him by the arm; pushed open the door of a house near Field Lane; 
and; drawing him into the passage; closed it behind them。 

“Now; then!” cried a voice from below; in reply to a whistle 
from the Dodger。 

“Plummy and slam!” was the reply。 

This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all was right; 
for the light of a feeble candle gleamed on the wall at the remote 
end of the passage; and a man’s face peeped out; from where a 
balustrade of the old kitchen staircase had been broken away。 

“There’s two on you;” said the man; thrusting the candle 
farther out; and shading his eyes with his hand。 “Who’s the t’other 
one?” 

“A new pal;” replied Jack Dawkins; pulling Oliver forward。 

“Where did he come from?” 

“Greenland。 Is Fagin upstairs?” 

“Yes; he’s a…sortin’ the wipes。 Up with you!” The candle was 
drawn back; and the face disappeared。 

Oliver; groping his way with one hand; and having the other 

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Oliver Twist 

firmly grasped by his companion; ascended with much difficulty 
the dark and broken stairs; which his conductor mounted with an 
ease and expedition that showed that he was well acquainted with 
them。 He threw open the door of a back room; and drew Oliver in 
after him。 

The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black; with age 
and dirt。 There was a deal table before the fire: upon which were a 
candle; stuck in a ginger…beer bottle; 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…shelf by a string; some 
sausages were cooking; and standing over them; with a toasting…
fork in his hand; was a very old; shrivelled Jew; whose villainous…
looking and repulsive face was obscured 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 the clothes…horse; over which a great number of silk 
handkerchiefs were hanging。 Several rough beds made of old 
sacks; were huddled side by side on the floor。 Seated round the 
table were four or five boys; none older than the Dodger; smoking 
long clay pipes; and drinking spirits with 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 grinned at 
Oliver。 So did the Jew himself; toasting…fork in hand。 

“This is him; Fagin;” said Jack Dawkins; “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— 

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Oliver Twist 

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 in his pockets; in order 
that; as he was very tired; he might not have the trouble of 
emptying them; himself; when he went to bed。 These civilities 
would probably have been extended much further; but for a liberal 
exercise of the Jew’s toasting…fork on the heads and shoulders 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 good many of ’em; ain’t there? We’ve just looked 
’em out; ready for the wash; that’s all; Oliver; that’s all。 Ha! ha! 
ha!” 

The latter part of this speech was hailed by a boisterous shout 
from all the hopeful 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。 Immediately afterwards he felt himself gently lifted on to 
one of the sacks; and then he sank into a deep sleep。 

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics 


Oliver Twist 

Chapter 9 

Containing Further Particulars Concerning The
Pleasant Old Gentleman; And His Hopeful Pupils。


It was late next morning when Oliver awoke; from a sound; 
long sleep。 There was no other person in the room 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 state; between sleeping and 
waking; when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half…
open; and yourself half…conscious of everything that is passing 
around you; than you would in five nights with your eyes fast 
closed; and your senses wrapped in perfect unconsciousness。 At 
such times; a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing; 
to form some g
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