Dickens' Stories About Children Every Child Can Read by Charles Dickens (sad books to read .txt) π
"Good gracious me!" said Meg presently, "father's crazy. He's put the dear child's bonnet on the kettle, and hung the lid behind the door!"
Trotty hastily repaired this mistake, and went off to find some tea and a rasher of bacon he fancied "he had seen lying somewhere on the stairs."
He soon came back and made the tea, and before long they were all enjoying the meal. Trotty and Meg only took a morsel for form's sake (for they had only a very little, not enough for all), but their delight was in seeing their visitors eat, and very happy they were--though Trotty had noticed that Meg was sitting by the fire in tears when they had come in, and he feared her marriage had been broken off.
After tea Meg took Lilian to bed, and Toby showed Will Fern where he was to sleep. As he came back past Meg's door he heard the child saying her prayers, remembering Meg's name and asking for his. Then he went to sit by the fire and read his paper, and fell asleep to have a wonderful dream, so t
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The policeman, with becoming humility, related how he had taken the boy; how he had searched Oliver, and found nothing on his person; and how that was all he knew about it.
"Are there any witnesses?" inquired Mr. Fang.
"None, your worship," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fang sat silent for some minutes, and then, turning round to Mr. Brownlow, said in a towering passion:
"Do you mean to state what your complaint against this boy is, man, or do you not? You have been sworn. Now, if you stand there, refusing to give evidence, I'll punish you for disrespect to the bench."
With many interruptions, and repeated insults, Mr. Brownlow contrived to state his case; observing that, in the surprise of the moment, he had run after the boy because he saw him running away.
"He has been hurt already," said the old gentleman, in conclusion. "And I fear," he added, with great energy, looking toward the bar, "I really fear that he is ill."
"Oh! yes, I dare say!" said Mr. Fang, with a sneer. "Come, none of your tricks here, you young vagabond; they won't do. What's your name?"
Oliver tried to reply, but his tongue failed him. He was deadly pale; and the whole place seemed turning round and round.
"What's your name, you hardened scoundrel?" demanded Mr. Fang.
At this point of the inquiry, Oliver raised his head, and, looking round with imploring eyes, asked feebly for a drink of water.
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Fang; "don't try to make a fool of me."
"I think he really is ill, your worship," said the officer.
"I know better," said Mr. Fang.
"Take care of him, officer," said the old gentleman, raising his hands instinctively; "he'll fall down."
"Stand away, officer," cried Fang; "let him, if he likes."
Oliver availed himself of the kind permission, and fell to the floor in a fainting fit. The men in the office looked at each other, but no one dared to stir.
"I knew he was shamming," said Fang, as if this were enough proof of the fact. "Let him lie there; he'll soon be tired of that."
"How do you propose to deal with the case, sir?" inquired the clerk in a low voice.
"Summarily," replied Mr. Fang. "He stands committed for three monthsβhard labor, of course. Clear the office."
The door was opened for this purpose, and a couple of men were preparing to carry the insensible boy to his cell, when an elderly man of decent but poor appearance, clad in an old suit of black, rushed in.
"Stop! stop! Don't take him away! For heaven's sake stop a moment!" cried the newcomer, breathless with haste.
"What is this? Who is this? Turn this man out. Clear the office," cried Mr. Fang.
"I will speak," cried the man; "I will not be turned out. I saw it all. I keep the book-stall. I demand to be sworn. I will not be put down. Mr. Fang, you must hear me. You must not refuse, sir."
The man was right. His manner was determined; and the matter was growing rather too serious to be hushed up.
"Swear the man," growled Mr. Fang, with a very ill grace. "Now, man, what have you to say?"
"This," said the man: "I saw three boysβtwo two others and the prisoner hereβloitering on the opposite side of the way, when this gentleman was reading. The robbery was committed by another boy. I saw it done; and I saw this boy was perfectly amazed and stupefied by it."
"Why didn't you come here before?" said Fang, after a pause.
"I hadn't a soul to mind the shop," replied the man. "Everybody who could have helped me had joined in the pursuit. I could get nobody till five minutes ago; and I have run here all the way to speak the truth."
"The boy is discharged. Clear the office!" shouted the angry magistrate.
The command was obeyed; and as Oliver was taken out he fainted away again in the yard, and lay with his face a deadly white and a cold tremble convulsing his frame.
"Poor boy! poor boy!" said Mr. Brownlow, bending over him. "Call a coach, somebody, pray. Directly!"
A coach was obtained, and Oliver, having been carefully laid on one seat, the old gentleman got in and sat himself on the other.
"May I go with you?" said the book-stall keeper, looking in.
"Bless me, yes, my dear sir," said Mr. Brownlow quickly. "I forgot you. Dear, dear! I have this unhappy book still! Jump in. Poor fellow! No time to lose."
The book-stall keeper got into the coach, and it rattled away. It stopped at length before a neat house, in a quiet shady street. Here a bed was prepared, without loss of time, in which Mr. Brownlow saw his young charge carefully and comfortably laid; and here he was tended with a kindness and solicitude that knew no bounds.
At last the sick boy began to recover, and one day Mr. Brownlow came to see him. You may imagine how happy Oliver was to see his good friend; but he was no more delighted than was Mr. Brownlow. The old gentleman came to spend a short time with him every day; and, when he grew stronger, Oliver went up to the learned gentleman's study and talked with him by the hour and was astonished at the books he saw, and which Mr. Brownlow told him to look at and read as much as he liked.
Oliver was soon well, and no thought was in Mr. Brownlow's mind but that he should keep him, and raise him and educate him to be a splendid man; for no father loves his own son better than Mr. Brownlow had come to love Oliver.
Now, I know, you want to ask me what became of Oliver Twist. But I cannot tell you here. Let us leave him in this beautiful home of good Mr. Brownlow; and, if you want to read the rest of his wonderful story, get Dickens' big book called Oliver Twist, and read it there. There were many surprises and much trouble yet in store for Oliver, but he was always noble, honest, and brave.
βββTHEβββFamous Standard Juveniles
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
Philadelphia
EDWARD S. ELLIS
Edward S. Ellis, the popular writer of boys' books, is a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a half-century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his associates, with their tales of adventure which gave the son his taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring life of the early settlers on the frontier.
Mr. Ellis began writing at an early age and his work was acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the State Normal School and became a member of the faculty while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of schools. By that time his services as a writer had become so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature. He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a number of text-books for schools, all of which met with high favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts.
The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis' stories have made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in this country. A leading paper remarked some time since, that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy any book written by Mr. Ellis. They are found in the leading Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed, they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound, wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents as to their children. Nearly all of the Ellis books published by The John C. Winston Company are reissued in London, and many have been translated into other languages. Mr. Ellis is a writer of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of popular music, and has made several valuable inventions. Mr. Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers, and great as have been the merits of his past achievements, there is reason to look for more brilliant productions from his pen in the near future.
3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00
Hunters of the Ozark
The Last War Trail
Camp in the Mountains
LOG CABIN SERIES
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Lost Trail
Footprints in the Forest
Camp-Fire and Wigwam
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Ned in the Block-House
Ned on the River
Ned in the Woods
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Two Boys in Wyoming
Cowmen and Rustlers
A Strange Craft and its Wonderful Voyage
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Shod with Silence
In the Days of the Pioneers
Phantom of the River
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Red Eagle
Blazing Arrow
Iron Heart, War Chief of the Iroquois
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Deerfoot in the Forest
Deerfoot on the Prairie
Deerfoot in the Mountains
TRUE GRIT SERIES
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Jim and Joe
Dorsey, the Young Inventor
Secret of Coffin Island
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2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00
Teddy and Towser; or, Early Days in California
Up the Forked River
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An American King
The Cromwell of Virginia
The Last Emperor of the Old Dominion
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Lost in the Forbidden Land
River and Jungle
The Hunt of the White Elephant
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The Mountain Star
Queen of the Clouds
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3 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $3.00
Off the Reservation
Trailing Geronimo
The Round Up
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2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00
Alden, the Pony Express Rider
Alden Among the Indians
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Captain of the Camp
Catamount Camp
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2 vols. By EDWARD S. ELLIS $2.00
The Flying Boys in the Sky
The Flying Boys to the Rescue
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