William Butler Yeats - "The Land Of Heart's Desire"

Emile Souvestre - "An Attic Philosopher, v2"

Andrew Lang - "The Puzzle of Dickens's Last Plot"

Harry Leon Wilson - "Merton of the Movies"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: Oliver Twist

C >> Charles Dickens >> Oliver Twist




'When this woman, that we called old Sally, died,' the matron
began, 'she and I were alone.'

'Was there no one by?' asked Monks, in the same hollow whisper;
'No sick wretch or idiot in some other bed? No one who could
hear, and might, by possibility, understand?'

'Not a soul,' replied the woman; 'we were alone. _I_ stood alone
beside the body when death came over it.'

'Good,' said Monks, regarding her attentively. 'Go on.'

'She spoke of a young creature,' resumed the matron, 'who had
brought a child into the world some years before; not merely in
the same room, but in the same bed, in which she then lay dying.'

'Ay?' said Monks, with quivering lip, and glancing over his
shoulder, 'Blood! How things come about!'

'The child was the one you named to him last night,' said the
matron, nodding carelessly towards her husband; 'the mother this
nurse had robbed.'

'In life?' asked Monks.

'In death,' replied the woman, with something like a shudder.
'She stole from the corpse, when it had hardly turned to one,
that which the dead mother had prayed her, with her last breath,
to keep for the infant's sake.'

'She sold it,' cried Monks, with desperate eagerness; 'did she
sell it? Where? When? To whom? How long before?'

'As she told me, with great difficulty, that she had done this,'
said the matron, 'she fell back and died.'

'Without saying more?' cried Monks, in a voice which, from its
very suppression, seemed only the more furious. 'It's a lie!
I'll not be played with. She said more. I'll tear the life out
of you both, but I'll know what it was.'

'She didn't utter another word,' said the woman, to all
appearance unmoved (as Mr. Bumble was very far from being) by the
strange man's violence; 'but she clutched my gown, violently,
with one hand, which was partly closed; and when I saw that she
was dead, and so removed the hand by force, I found it clasped a
scrap of dirty paper.'

'Which contained--' interposed Monks, stretching forward.

'Nothing,' replied the woman; 'it was a pawnbroker's duplicate.'

'For what?' demanded Monks.

'In good time I'll tell you.' said the woman. 'I judge that she
had kept the trinket, for some time, in the hope of turning it to
better account; and then had pawned it; and had saved or scraped
together money to pay the pawnbroker's interest year by year, and
prevent its running out; so that if anything came of it, it could
still be redeemed. Nothing had come of it; and, as I tell you,
she died with the scrap of paper, all worn and tattered, in her
hand. The time was out in two days; I thought something might
one day come of it too; and so redeemed the pledge.'

'Where is it now?' asked Monks quickly.

'_There_,' replied the woman. And, as if glad to be relieved of
it, she hastily threw upon the table a small kid bag scarcely
large enough for a French watch, which Monks pouncing upon, tore
open with trembling hands. It contained a little gold locket:
in which were two locks of hair, and a plain gold wedding-ring.

'It has the word "Agnes" engraved on the inside,' said the woman.

'There is a blank left for the surname; and then follows the
date; which is within a year before the child was born. I found
out that.'

'And this is all?' said Monks, after a close and eager scrutiny
of the contents of the little packet.

'All,' replied the woman.

Mr. Bumble drew a long breath, as if he were glad to find that
the story was over, and no mention made of taking the
five-and-twenty pounds back again; and now he took courage to
wipe the perspiration which had been trickling over his nose,
unchecked, during the whole of the previous dialogue.

'I know nothing of the story, beyond what I can guess at,' said
his wife addressing Monks, after a short silence; 'and I want to
know nothing; for it's safer not. But I may ask you two
questions, may I?'

'You may ask,' said Monks, with some show of surprise; 'but
whether I answer or not is another question.'

'--Which makes three,' observed Mr. Bumble, essaying a stroke of
facetiousness.

'Is that what you expected to get from me?' demanded the matron.

'It is,' replied Monks. 'The other question?'

'What do you propose to do with it? Can it be used against me?'

'Never,' rejoined Monks; 'nor against me either. See here! But
don't move a step forward, or your life is not worth a bulrush.'

With these words, he suddenly wheeled the table aside, and
pulling an iron ring in the boarding, threw back a large
trap-door which opened close at Mr. Bumble's feet, and caused
that gentleman to retire several paces backward, with great
precipitation.

'Look down,' said Monks, lowering the lantern into the gulf.
'Don't fear me. I could have let you down, quietly enough, when
you were seated over it, if that had been my game.'

Thus encouraged, the matron drew near to the brink; and even Mr.
Bumble himself, impelled by curiousity, ventured to do the same.
The turbid water, swollen by the heavy rain, was rushing rapidly
on below; and all other sounds were lost in the noise of its
plashing and eddying against the green and slimy piles. There
had once been a water-mill beneath; the tide foaming and chafing
round the few rotten stakes, and fragments of machinery that yet
remained, seemed to dart onward, with a new impulse, when freed
from the obstacles which had unavailingly attempted to stem its
headlong course.

'If you flung a man's body down there, where would it be
to-morrow morning?' said Monks, swinging the lantern to and fro
in the dark well.

'Twelve miles down the river, and cut to pieces besides,' replied
Bumble, recoiling at the thought.

Monks drew the little packet from his breast, where he had
hurriedly thrust it; and tying it to a leaden weight, which had
formed a part of some pulley, and was lying on the floor, dropped
it into the stream. It fell straight, and true as a die; clove
the water with a scarcely audible splash; and was gone.

The three looking into each other's faces, seemed to breathe more
freely.

'There!' said Monks, closing the trap-door, which fell heavily
back into its former position. 'If the sea ever gives up its
dead, as books say it will, it will keep its gold and silver to
itself, and that trash among it. We have nothing more to say,
and may break up our pleasant party.'

'By all means,' observed Mr. Bumble, with great alacrity.

'You'll keep a quiet tongue in your head, will you?' said Monks,
with a threatening look. 'I am not afraid of your wife.'

'You may depend upon me, young man,' answered Mr. Bumble, bowing
himself gradually towards the ladder, with excessive politeness.
'On everybody's account, young man; on my own, you know, Mr.
Monks.'

'I am glad, for your sake, to hear it,' remarked Monks. 'Light
your lantern! And get away from here as fast as you can.'

It was fortunate that the conversation terminated at this point,
or Mr. Bumble, who had bowed himself to within six inches of the
ladder, would infallibly have pitched headlong into the room
below. He lighted his lantern from that which Monks had detached
from the rope, and now carried in his hand; and making no effort
to prolong the discourse, descended in silence, followed by his
wife. Monks brought up the rear, after pausing on the steps to
satisfy himself that there were no other sounds to be heard than
the beating of the rain without, and the rushing of the water.

They traversed the lower room, slowly, and with caution; for
Monks started at every shadow; and Mr. Bumble, holding his
lantern a foot above the ground, walked not only with remarkable
care, but with a marvellously light step for a gentleman of his
figure: looking nervously about him for hidden trap-doors. The
gate at which they had entered, was softly unfastened and opened
by Monks; merely exchanging a nod with their mysterious
acquaintance, the married couple emerged into the wet and
darkness outside.

They were no sooner gone, than Monks, who appeared to entertain
an invincible repugnance to being left alone, called to a boy who
had been hidden somewhere below. Bidding him go first, and bear
the light, he returned to the chamber he had just quitted.




CHAPTER XXXIX

INTRODUCES SOME RESPECTABLE CHARACTERS WITH WHOM THE READER IS
ALREADY ACQUAINTED, AND SHOWS HOW MONKS AND THE JEW LAID THEIR
WORTHY HEADS TOGETHER

On the evening following that upon which the three worthies
mentioned in the last chapter, disposed of their little matter of
business as therein narrated, Mr. William Sikes, awakening from a
nap, drowsily growled forth an inquiry what time of night it was.

The room in which Mr. Sikes propounded this question, was not one
of those he had tenanted, previous to the Chertsey expedition,
although it was in the same quarter of the town, and was situated
at no great distance from his former lodgings. It was not, in
appearance, so desirable a habitation as his old quarters: being
a mean and badly-furnished apartment, of very limited size;
lighted only by one small window in the shelving roof, and
abutting on a close and dirty lane. Nor were there wanting other
indications of the good gentleman's having gone down in the world
of late: for a great scarcity of furniture, and total absence of
comfort, together with the disappearance of all such small
moveables as spare clothes and linen, bespoke a state of extreme
poverty; while the meagre and attenuated condition of Mr. Sikes
himself would have fully confirmed these symptoms, if they had
stood in any need of corroboration.

The housebreaker was lying on the bed, wrapped in his white
great-coat, by way of dressing-gown, and displaying a set of
features in no degree improved by the cadaverous hue of illness,
and the addition of a soiled nightcap, and a stiff, black beard
of a week's growth. The dog sat at the bedside: now eyeing his
master with a wistful look, and now pricking his ears, and
uttering a low growl as some noise in the street, or in the lower
part of the house, attracted his attention. Seated by the
window, busily engaged in patching an old waistcoat which formed
a portion of the robber's ordinary dress, was a female: so pale
and reduced with watching and privation, that there would have
been considerable difficulty in recognising her as the same Nancy
who has already figured in this tale, but for the voice in which
she replied to Mr. Sikes's question.

'Not long gone seven,' said the girl. 'How do you feel to-night,
Bill?'

'As weak as water,' replied Mr. Sikes, with an imprecation on his
eyes and limbs. 'Here; lend us a hand, and let me get off this
thundering bed anyhow.'

Illness had not improved Mr. Sikes's temper; for, as the girl
raised him up and led him to a chair, he muttered various curses
on her awkwardness, and struck her.

'Whining are you?' said Sikes. 'Come! Don't stand snivelling
there. If you can't do anything better than that, cut off
altogether. D'ye hear me?'

'I hear you,' replied the girl, turning her face aside, and
forcing a laugh. 'What fancy have you got in your head now?'

'Oh! you've thought better of it, have you?' growled Sikes,
marking the tear which trembled in her eye. 'All the better for
you, you have.'

'Why, you don't mean to say, you'd be hard upon me to-night,
Bill,' said the girl, laying her hand upon his shoulder.

'No!' cried Mr. Sikes. 'Why not?'

'Such a number of nights,' said the girl, with a touch of woman's
tenderness, which communicated something like sweetness of tone,
even to her voice: 'such a number of nights as I've been patient
with you, nursing and caring for you, as if you had been a child:
and this the first that I've seen you like yourself; you wouldn't
have served me as you did just now, if you'd thought of that,
would you? Come, come; say you wouldn't.'

'Well, then,' rejoined Mr. Sikes, 'I wouldn't. Why, damme, now,
the girls's whining again!'

'It's nothing,' said the girl, throwing herself into a chair.
'Don't you seem to mind me. It'll soon be over.'

'What'll be over?' demanded Mr. Sikes in a savage voice. 'What
foolery are you up to, now, again? Get up and bustle about, and
don't come over me with your woman's nonsense.'

At any other time, this remonstrance, and the tone in which it
was delivered, would have had the desired effect; but the girl
being really weak and exhausted, dropped her head over the back
of the chair, and fainted, before Mr. Sikes could get out a few
of the appropriate oaths with which, on similar occasions, he was
accustomed to garnish his threats. Not knowing, very well, what
to do, in this uncommon emergency; for Miss Nancy's hysterics
were usually of that violent kind which the patient fights and
struggles out of, without much assistance; Mr. Sikes tried a
little blasphemy: and finding that mode of treatment wholly
ineffectual, called for assistance.

'What's the matter here, my dear?' said Fagin, looking in.

'Lend a hand to the girl, can't you?' replied Sikes impatiently.
'Don't stand chattering and grinning at me!'

With an exclamation of surprise, Fagin hastened to the girl's
assistance, while Mr. John Dawkins (otherwise the Artful Dodger),
who had followed his venerable friend into the room, hastily
deposited on the floor a bundle with which he was laden; and
snatching a bottle from the grasp of Master Charles Bates who
came close at his heels, uncorked it in a twinkling with his
teeth, and poured a portion of its contents down the patient's
throat: previously taking a taste, himself, to prevent mistakes.

'Give her a whiff of fresh air with the bellows, Charley,' said
Mr. Dawkins; 'and you slap her hands, Fagin, while Bill undoes
the petticuts.'

These united restoratives, administered with great energy:
especially that department consigned to Master Bates, who
appeared to consider his share in the proceedings, a piece of
unexampled pleasantry: were not long in producing the desired
effect. The girl gradually recovered her senses; and, staggering
to a chair by the bedside, hid her face upon the pillow: leaving
Mr. Sikes to confront the new comers, in some astonishment at
their unlooked-for appearance.

'Why, what evil wind has blowed you here?' he asked Fagin.

'No evil wind at all, my dear, for evil winds blow nobody any
good; and I've brought something good with me, that you'll be
glad to see. Dodger, my dear, open the bundle; and give Bill the
little trifles that we spent all our money on, this morning.'

In compliance with Mr. Fagin's request, the Artful untied this
bundle, which was of large size, and formed of an old
table-cloth; and handed the articles it contained, one by one, to
Charley Bates: who placed them on the table, with various
encomiums on their rarity and excellence.

'Sitch a rabbit pie, Bill,' exclaimed that young gentleman,
disclosing to view a huge pasty; 'sitch delicate creeturs, with
sitch tender limbs, Bill, that the wery bones melt in your mouth,
and there's no occasion to pick 'em; half a pound of seven and
six-penny green, so precious strong that if you mix it with
biling water, it'll go nigh to blow the lid of the tea-pot off; a
pound and a half of moist sugar that the niggers didn't work at
all at, afore they got it up to sitch a pitch of goodness,--oh
no! Two half-quartern brans; pound of best fresh; piece of
double Glo'ster; and, to wind up all, some of the richest sort
you ever lushed!'

Uttering this last panegyric, Master Bates produced, from one of
his extensive pockets, a full-sized wine-bottle, carefully
corked; while Mr. Dawkins, at the same instant, poured out a
wine-glassful of raw spirits from the bottle he carried: which
the invalid tossed down his throat without a moment's hesitation.

'Ah!' said Fagin, rubbing his hands with great satisfaction.
'You'll do, Bill; you'll do now.'

'Do!' exclaimed Mr. Sikes; 'I might have been done for, twenty
times over, afore you'd have done anything to help me. What do
you mean by leaving a man in this state, three weeks and more,
you false-hearted wagabond?'

'Only hear him, boys!' said Fagin, shrugging his shoulders. 'And
us come to bring him all these beau-ti-ful things.'

'The things is well enough in their way,' observed Mr. Sikes: a
little soothed as he glanced over the table; 'but what have you
got to say for yourself, why you should leave me here, down in
the mouth, health, blunt, and everything else; and take no more
notice of me, all this mortal time, than if I was that 'ere
dog.--Drive him down, Charley!'

'I never see such a jolly dog as that,' cried Master Bates, doing
as he was desired. 'Smelling the grub like a old lady a going to
market! He'd make his fortun' on the stage that dog would, and
rewive the drayma besides.'

'Hold your din,' cried Sikes, as the dog retreated under the bed:
still growling angrily. 'What have you got to say for yourself,
you withered old fence, eh?'

'I was away from London, a week and more, my dear, on a plant,'
replied the Jew.

'And what about the other fortnight?' demanded Sikes. 'What
about the other fortnight that you've left me lying here, like a
sick rat in his hole?'

'I couldn't help it, Bill. I can't go into a long explanation
before company; but I couldn't help it, upon my honour.'

'Upon your what?' growled Sikes, with excessive disgust. 'Here!
Cut me off a piece of that pie, one of you boys, to take the
taste of that out of my mouth, or it'll choke me dead.'

'Don't be out of temper, my dear,' urged Fagin, submissively. 'I
have never forgot you, Bill; never once.'

'No! I'll pound it that you han't,' replied Sikes, with a bitter
grin. 'You've been scheming and plotting away, every hour that I
have laid shivering and burning here; and Bill was to do this;
and Bill was to do that; and Bill was to do it all, dirt cheap,
as soon as he got well: and was quite poor enough for your work.
If it hadn't been for the girl, I might have died.'

'There now, Bill,' remonstrated Fagin, eagerly catching at the
word. 'If it hadn't been for the girl! Who but poor ould Fagin
was the means of your having such a handy girl about you?'

'He says true enough there!' said Nancy, coming hastily forward.
'Let him be; let him be.'

Nancy's appearance gave a new turn to the conversation; for the
boys, receiving a sly wink from the wary old Jew, began to ply
her with liquor: of which, however, she took very sparingly;
while Fagin, assuming an unusual flow of spirits, gradually
brought Mr. Sikes into a better temper, by affecting to regard
his threats as a little pleasant banter; and, moreover, by
laughing very heartily at one or two rough jokes, which, after
repeated applications to the spirit-bottle, he condescended to
make.

'It's all very well,' said Mr. Sikes; 'but I must have some blunt
from you to-night.'

'I haven't a piece of coin about me,' replied the Jew.

'Then you've got lots at home,' retorted Sikes; 'and I must have
some from there.'

'Lots!' cried Fagin, holding up is hands. 'I haven't so much as
would--'

'I don't know how much you've got, and I dare say you hardly know
yourself, as it would take a pretty long time to count it,' said
Sikes; 'but I must have some to-night; and that's flat.'

'Well, well,' said Fagin, with a sigh, 'I'll send the Artful
round presently.'

'You won't do nothing of the kind,' rejoined Mr. Sikes. 'The
Artful's a deal too artful, and would forget to come, or lose his
way, or get dodged by traps and so be perwented, or anything for
an excuse, if you put him up to it. Nancy shall go to the ken
and fetch it, to make all sure; and I'll lie down and have a
snooze while she's gone.'

After a great deal of haggling and squabbling, Fagin beat down
the amount of the required advance from five pounds to three
pounds four and sixpence: protesting with many solemn
asseverations that that would only leave him eighteen-pence to
keep house with; Mr. Sikes sullenly remarking that if he couldn't
get any more he must accompany him home; with the Dodger and
Master Bates put the eatables in the cupboard. The Jew then,
taking leave of his affectionate friend, returned homeward,
attended by Nancy and the boys: Mr. Sikes, meanwhile, flinging
himself on the bed, and composing himself to sleep away the time
until the young lady's return.

In due course, they arrived at Fagin's abode, where they found
Toby Crackit and Mr. Chitling intent upon their fifteenth game at
cribbage, which it is scarcely necessary to say the latter
gentleman lost, and with it, his fifteenth and last sixpence:
much to the amusement of his young friends. Mr. Crackit,
apparently somewhat ashamed at being found relaxing himself with
a gentleman so much his inferior in station and mental
endowments, yawned, and inquiring after Sikes, took up his hat to
go.

'Has nobody been, Toby?' asked Fagin.

'Not a living leg,' answered Mr. Crackit, pulling up his collar;
'it's been as dull as swipes. You ought to stand something
handsome, Fagin, to recompense me for keeping house so long.
Damme, I'm as flat as a juryman; and should have gone to sleep,
as fast as Newgate, if I hadn't had the good natur' to amuse this
youngster. Horrid dull, I'm blessed if I an't!'

With these and other ejaculations of the same kind, Mr. Toby
Crackit swept up his winnings, and crammed them into his
waistcoat pocket with a haughty air, as though such small pieces
of silver were wholly beneath the consideration of a man of his
figure; this done, he swaggered out of the room, with so much
elegance and gentility, that Mr. Chitling, bestowing numerous
admiring glances on his legs and boots till they were out of
sight, assured the company that he considered his acquaintance
cheap at fifteen sixpences an interview, and that he didn't value
his losses the snap of his little finger.

'Wot a rum chap you are, Tom!' said Master Bates, highly amused
by this declaration.

'Not a bit of it,' replied Mr. Chitling. 'Am I, Fagin?'

'A very clever fellow, my dear,' said Fagin, patting him on the
shoulder, and winking to his other pupils.

'And Mr. Crackit is a heavy swell; an't he, Fagin?' asked Tom.

'No doubt at all of that, my dear.'

'And it is a creditable thing to have his acquaintance; an't it,
Fagin?' pursued Tom.

'Very much so, indeed, my dear. They're only jealous, Tom,
because he won't give it to them.'

'Ah!' cried Tom, triumphantly, 'that's where it is! He has
cleaned me out. But I can go and earn some more, when I like;
can't I, Fagin?'

'To be sure you can, and the sooner you go the better, Tom; so
make up your loss at once, and don't lose any more time. Dodger!
Charley! It's time you were on the lay. Come! It's near ten,
and nothing done yet.'

In obedience to this hint, the boys, nodding to Nancy, took up
their hats, and left the room; the Dodger and his vivacious
friend indulging, as they went, in many witticisms at the expense
of Mr. Chitling; in whose conduct, it is but justice to say,
there was nothing very conspicuous or peculiar: inasmuch as
there are a great number of spirited young bloods upon town, who
pay a much higher price than Mr. Chitling for being seen in good
society: and a great number of fine gentlemen (composing the
good society aforesaid) who established their reputation upon
very much the same footing as flash Toby Crackit.

'Now,' said Fagin, when they had left the room, 'I'll go and get
you that cash, Nancy. This is only the key of a little cupboard
where I keep a few odd things the boys get, my dear. I never
lock up my money, for I've got none to lock up, my dear--ha! ha!
ha!--none to lock up. It's a poor trade, Nancy, and no thanks;
but I'm fond of seeing the young people about me; and I bear it
all, I bear it all. Hush!' he said, hastily concealing the key
in his breast; 'who's that? Listen!'

The girl, who was sitting at the table with her arms folded,
appeared in no way interested in the arrival: or to care whether
the person, whoever he was, came or went: until the murmur of a
man's voice reached her ears. The instant she caught the sound,
she tore off her bonnet and shawl, with the rapidity of
lightning, and thrust them under the table. The Jew, turning
round immediately afterwards, she muttered a complaint of the
heat: in a tone of languor that contrasted, very remarkably,
with the extreme haste and violence of this action: which,
however, had been unobserved by Fagin, who had his back towards
her at the time.

'Bah!' he whispered, as though nettled by the interruption; 'it's
the man I expected before; he's coming downstairs. Not a word
about the money while he's here, Nance. He won't stop long. Not
ten minutes, my dear.'

Laying his skinny forefinger upon his lip, the Jew carried a
candle to the door, as a man's step was heard upon the stairs
without. He reached it, at the same moment as the visitor, who,
coming hastily into the room, was close upon the girl before he
observed her.

It was Monks.

'Only one of my young people,' said Fagin, observing that Monks
drew back, on beholding a stranger. 'Don't move, Nancy.'

The girl drew closer to the table, and glancing at Monks with an
air of careless levity, withdrew her eyes; but as he turned
towards Fagin, she stole another look; so keen and searching, and
full of purpose, that if there had been any bystander to observe
the change, he could hardly have believed the two looks to have
proceeded from the same person.