he felt that pride swelling in his heart which would have kept
down a shriek to the last； though they had roasted him alive。 But
now； when there were none to see or hear him； he fell upon his
knees on the floor； and； hiding his face in his hands； wept such
tears as—God send for the credit of our nature—few so young may
ever have cause to pour out before Him！
For a long time； Oliver remained motionless in this attitude。
The candle was burning low in the socket when he rose to his feet。
Having gazed curiously round him and listened intently； he gently
undid the fastenings of the door； and looked abroad。
It was a cold； dark night。 The stars seemed； to the boy’s eyes；
farther from the earth than he had ever seen them before； there
was no wind； and the sombre shadows thrown by the trees upon
the ground； looked sepulchral and death…like； from being so still。
He softly reclosed the door。 Having availed himself of the expiring
light of the candle to tie up in a handkerchief the few articles of
wearing apparel he had； sat himself down upon a bench； to wait
for morning。
With the first ray of light that struggled through the crevices in
the shutters； Oliver arose； and again unbarred the door。 One timid
look around—one moment’s pause of hesitation—he had closed it
behind him； and was in the open street。
He looked to the right and to the left； uncertain whither to fly。
He remembered to have seen the wagons； as they went out； toiling
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Oliver Twist
up the hill。 He took the same route； and； arriving at a footpath
across the fields； which he knew； after some distance； led out again
into the road； struck into it； and walked quickly on。
Along the same footpath； Oliver well remembered he had
trotted beside Mr。 Bumble； when he first carried him to the
workhouse from the farm。 His way lay directly in front of the
cottage。 His heart beat quickly when he bethought himself of this；
and he half…resolved to turn back。 He had come a long way though；
and should lose a great deal of time by doing so。 Besides； it was so
early that there was very little fear of his being seen； so he walked
on。
He reached the house。 There was no appearance of its inmates
stirring at that early hour。 Oliver stopped； and peeped into the
garden。 A child was weeding one of the little beds； as he stopped；
he raised his pale face and disclosed the features of one of his
former companions。 Oliver felt glad to see him； before he went；
for； though younger than himself； he had been his little friend and
playmate。 They had been beaten； and starved； and shut up
together； many and many a time。
“Hush； Dick！” said Oliver； as the boy ran to the gate； and thrust
his thin arm between the rails to greet him。 “Is any one up？”
“Nobody but me；” replied the child。
“You mustn’t say you saw me； Dick；” said Oliver。 “I am running
away。 They beat and ill…use me； Dick； and I am going to seek my
fortune； some long way off。 I don’t know where。 How pale you
are！”
“I heard the doctor tell them I was dying；” replied the child；
with a faint smile。 “I am very glad to see you； dear； but don’t stop；
don’t stop！”
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Oliver Twist
“Yes； yes； I will； to say good…bye to you；” replied Oliver。 “I shall
see you again； Dick。 I know I shall！ You will be well and happy！”
“I hope so；” replied the child。 “After I am dead； but not before。 I
know the doctor must be right； Oliver； because I dream so much of
heaven； and angels； and kind faces that I never see when I am
awake。 Kiss me；” said the child； climbing up the low gate； and
flinging his little arms round Oliver’s neck。 “Good…bye； dear！ God
bless you！”
The blessing was from a young child’s lips； but it was the first
that Oliver had ever heard invoked upon his head； and through
the struggles and sufferings； and troubles and changes； of his after
life； he never once forgot it。
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Oliver Twist
Chapter 8
Oliver Walks To London—He Encounters On The
Road A Strange Sort Of Young Gentleman。
O liver reached the stile； at which the by…path terminated；
and once more gained the high…road。 It was eight o’clock
now。 Though he was nearly five miles away from the
town； he ran； and hid behind the hedges； by turns； till noon；
fearing that he might be pursued and overtaken。 Then he sat
down to rest by the side of the milestone； and began to think； for
the first time； where he had better go and try to live。
The stone by which he was seated； bore； in large characters； an
intimation that it was just seventy miles from that spot to London。
The name awakened a new train of ideas in the boy’s mind。
London！—that great large place！—nobody—not even Mr。
Bumble—could ever find him there！ He had often heard the old
men in the workhouse； too； say that no lad of spirit need want in
London； and that there were ways of living in that vast city； which
those who had been bred up in country parts had no idea of。 It was
the very place for a homeless boy； who must die in the streets
unless some one helped him。 As these things passed through his
thoughts； he jumped upon his feet； and again walked forward。
He had diminished the distance between himself and London
by full four miles more； before he recollected how much he must
undergo ere he could hope to reach his place of destination。 As
this consideration forced itself upon him； he slackened his pace a
little； and meditated upon his means of getting there。 He had a
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Oliver Twist
crust of bread； a coarse shirt； and two pairs of stockings； in his
bundle。 He had a penny too—a gift of Sowerberry’s after some
funeral in which he had acquitted himself more than ordinarily
well—in his pocket。 “A clean shirt；” thought Oliver； “is a very
comfortable thing； very； and so are two pairs of darned stockings；
and so is a penny； but they are small helps to a sixty…five miles’
walk in wintertime。” But Oliver’s thoughts； like those of most
other people； although they were extremely ready and active to
point out his difficulties； were wholly at a loss to suggest any
feasible mode of surmounting them； so； after a good deal of
thinking to no particular purpose； he changed his little bundle
over to the other shoulder； and trudged on。
Oliver walked twenty miles that day； and all that time tasted
nothing but the crust of dry bread； and a few draughts of water；
which he begged at the cottage doors by the roadside。 When the
night came； he turned into a meadow； and； creeping close under a
hay…rick； determined to lie there； till morning。 He felt frightened at
first； for the wind moaned dismally over the empty fields； and he
was cold and hungry； and more alone than he had ever felt before。
Being very tired with his walk； however； he soon fell asleep and
forgot his troubles。
He felt cold and stiff； when he got up next morning； and so
hungry that he was obliged to exchange the penny for a small loaf；
in the very first village through which he passed。 He had walked
no more than twelve miles； when night closed in again。 His feet
were sore； and his legs so weak that they trembled beneath him。
Another night passed in the bleak； damp air； made him worse；
when he set forward on his journey next morning； he could hardly
crawl along。
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Oliver Twist
He waited at the bottom of a steep hill till a stage…coach came
up； and then begged of the outside passengers； but there were
very few who took any notice of him； and even those told him to
wait till they got to the top of the hill and then let them see how far
he could run for a halfpenny。 Poor Oliver tried to keep up with the
coach a little way； but was unable to do it； by reason of his fatigue
and sore feet。 When the outsiders saw this； they put their
halfpence back into their pockets again； declaring that he was an
idle young dog； and didn’t deserve anything； and the coach rattled
away and left only a cloud of dust behind。
In some villages； large painted boards were fixed up warning all
persons who begged within the district； that they would be sent to
jail。 This frightened Oliver very much； and made him glad to get
out of those villages with all possible expedition。 In others； he
would stand about the inn…yards； and look mournfully at every one
who passed； a proceeding which generally terminated in the
landlady’s ordering one of the post…boys who were lounging about；
to drive that strange boy out of the place； for she was sure he had
come to steal something。 If he begged at a farmer’s house； ten to
one but they threatened to set the dog on him； and when he
showed his nose in a shop； they talked about the beadle—which
brought Oliver’s heart into his mouth—very often the only thing
he had there； for many hours together。
In fact； if it had not been for a good…hearted turnpike…man and a
benevolent old lady； Oliver’s troubles would have been shortened
by the very same process which had put an end to his mother’s； in
other words； he would most assuredly have fallen dead upon the
king’s pathway。 But the turnpike…man gave him a meal of bread
and cheese； and the ‘old lady； who had a shipwrecked grandson
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Oliver Twist
wandering barefoot in some distant part of the earth； took pity
upon the poor orphan and gave him what little she could afford—
and more—with such kind and gentle words； and such tears of
sympathy and compassion； that they sank deeper into Oliver’s
soul； than all the sufferings he had ever undergone。
Early on the seventh morning； after he had left his native place；
Oliver limped slowly into the little town of Barnet。 The window
shutters were closed； the street was empty； not a soul had
awakened to the business of the day。 The sun was rising in all its
splendid beauty； but the light only served to show the boy his own
lonesomeness and desolation； as he sat with bleeding feet and
c