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convey a reflection on the honour of the parish； the latter
gentleman thought it advisable to change the subject。 Oliver Twist
being uppermost in his mind； he made him his theme。
“By the bye； said Mr。 Bumble； “you don’t know anybody who
wants a boy； do you？ A porochial ’prentis； who is at present a
dead…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”： which
were 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 wanted
to speak to you about。 You know—dear me； what a very elegant
button this is； Mr。 Bumble！ I never noticed it before。”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
“Yes； I think it is rather pretty；” said the beadle； glancing
proudly downwards at the large brass buttons which embellished
his coat。 “The die is the same as the porochial seal—the Good
Samaritan healing the sick； and bruised man。 The Board
presented it to me on New Year s morning； Mr。 Sowerberry。 I put
it on； I remember； for the first time； to attend the inquest on that
reduced tradesman； who died in a doorway at midnight。”
“I recollect；” said the undertaker。 “The jury brought it in； ‘Died
from exposure to the cold； and want of the common necessaries of
life； didn’t they？”
Mr。 Bumble nodded。
“And they made it a special verdict； I think；” said the
undertaker； “by adding some words to the effect； that if the
relieving officer had—”
“Tush！ Foolery！” interposed the beadle。 “If the Board attended
to all the nonsense that ignorant jurymen talk； they’d have enough
to do。”
“Very true；” said the undertaker； “they would indeed。”
“Juries；” said Mr。 Bumble； grasping his cane tightly； as was his
wont 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 fingers
contemptuously。
“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 the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
house for a week or two；” said the beadle； “the rules and
regulations of the Board would soon bring their spirit down for
’em。”
“Let ’em alone for that；” replied the undertaker。 So saying； he
smiled approvingly； to calm the rising wrath of the indignant
parish officer。
Mr。 Bumble lifted off his cocked hat； took a handkerchief from
the inside of the crown； wiped from his forehead the perspiration
which 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； I
pay a good deal towards the poor’s rates。”
“Hem！” said Mr。 Bumble； “Well？”
“Well；” replied the undertaker； “I was thinking that if I pay so
much 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 him
into the building。 Mr。 Sowerberry was closeted with the Board for
five minutes； and it was arranged that Oliver should go to him that
evening “upon liking”—a phrase which means； in the case of a
parish apprentice； that if the master find； upon a short trial； that
he can get enough work out of a boy without putting too much
food into him； he shall have him for a term of years； to do what he
likes with。
When little Oliver was taken before “the gentlemen” that
evening； and informed that he was to go； that night； as general
house…lad to a coffin…maker’s； and that if he complained of his
situation； or ever came back to the parish again； he would be sent
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
to sea； there to be drowned or knocked on the head； as the case
might be； he evinced so little emotion； that they by common
consent pronounced him a hardened young rascal； and ordered
Mr。 Bumble to remove him forthwith。
Now； although it was very natural that the Board； of all people
in the world； should feel in a great state of virtuous astonishment
and horror at the smallest tokens of want of feeling on the part of
anybody； they were rather out； in this particular instance。 The
simple fact was； that Oliver； instead of possessing too little feeling；
possessed rather too much； and was in a fair way of being reduced；
for life； to a state of brutal stupidity and sullenness by the ill…usage
he had received。 He heard the news of his destination； in perfect
silence； and； having had his luggage put into his hand—which was
not very difficult to carry； inasmuch as it was all comprised within
the limits of a brown…paper parcel； about half a foot square by
three inches deep—he pulled his cap over his eyes； and once more
attaching himself to Mr。 Bumble’s coat cuff； was led away by that
dignitary to a new scene of suffering。
For some time； Mr。 Bumble drew Oliver along； without notice
or remark； for the beadle carried his head very erect； as a beadle
always should： and； it being a windy day； little Oliver was
completely enshrouded by the skirts of Mr。 Bumble’s coat as they
blew open； and disclosed to great advantage his flapped waistcoat
and drab plush knee…breeches。 As they drew near to their
destination； however； Mr。 Bumble thought it expedient to look
down； and see that the boy was in good order for inspection by his
new master； which he accordingly did； with a fit and becoming air
of gracious patronage。
“Oliver！” said Mr。 Bumble。
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
“Yes； sir；” replied Oliver； in a low； tremulous voice。
“Pull that cap off your eyes； and hold up your head； sir。”
Although Oliver did as he was desired； at once； and passed the
back of his unoccupied hand briskly across his eyes； he left a tear
in them when he looked up at his conductor。 As Mr。 Bumble gazed
sternly upon him； it rolled down his cheek。 It was followed by
another； and another。 The child made a strong effort； but it was an
unsuccessful one。 Withdrawing his other hand from Mr。 Bumble’s；
he covered his face with both； and wept until the tears sprang out
from between his chin and bony fingers。
“Well！” exclaimed Mr。 Bumble； stopping short； and darting at
his little charge a look of intense malignity。 “Well！ Of all the
ungratefullest； and worst…disposed boys as ever I see； Oliver； you
are the—”
“No； no； sir；” sobbed Oliver； clinging to the hand which held the
well…known cane； “no； no； sir； I will be good indeed； indeed；
indeed I will； sir！ I am a very little boy； sir； and it is so—so—”
“So what？” inquired Mr。 Bumble in amazement。
“So lonely； sir！ So very lonely！” cried the child。 “Everybody
hates me。 Oh！ sir； don’t； don’t pray be cross with me！” The child
beat his hand upon his heart； and looked in his companion’s face；
with tears of real agony。
Mr。 Bumble regarded Oliver’s piteous and helpless look； with
some astonishment； for a few seconds； hemmed three or four
times in a husky manner； and； after muttering something about
“that troublesome cough；” bade Oliver dry his eyes and be a good
boy。 Then； once more taking his hand； he walked on with him in
silence。
The undertaker； who had just put up the shutters of his shop；
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Oliver Twist
was making some entries in his day…book by the light of a most
appropriate dismal candle； when Mr。 Bumble entered。
“Aha！” said the undertaker； looking up from the book and
pausing in the middle of a word； “is that you； Bumble？”
“No one else； Mr。 Sowerberry；” replied the beadle。 “Here！ I’ve
brought the boy。” Oliver made a bow。
“Oh！ that’s the boy； is it？” said the undertaker； raising the
candle above his head； to get a better view of Oliver。 “Mrs。
Sowerberry！ will you have the goodness to come here a moment；
my dear？”
Mrs。 Sowerberry emerged from a little room behind the shop；
and presented the form of a short； thin； squeezed…up woman； with
a vixenish countenance。
“My dear；” said Mr。 Sowerberry deferentially； “this is the boy
from the workhouse that I told you of。” Oliver bowed again。
“Dear me！” said the undertaker’s wife； “he’s very small。”
“Why； he is rather small；” replied Mr。 Bumble； looking at Oliver
as if it were his fault that he was no bigger； “he is small。 There’s no
denying it。 But he’ll grow； Mrs。 Sowerberry—he’ll grow。”
“Ah！ I dare say he will；” replied the lady pettishly； “on our
victuals and our drink。 I see no saving in parish children；