en-de  Oliver Twist ‚ÄĒ Chapter 1 [with short sentences!] ūüėä Medium
Handelt von dem Ort, wo Oliver Twist geboren wurde und der Umstände, die seine Geburt begleiteten.

Zwischen anderen √∂ffentlichen Geb√§uden einer gewissen Stadt, die ich klugerweise aus vielerlei Gr√ľnden nicht mit Namen nenne [...]

und der ich keinen erfundenen Namen geben m√∂chte, gibt es wie vormals √ľblich ein Haus der Gemeinde wie in den meisten St√§dten, gro√ü oder klein, n√§mlich ein Arbeitshaus [...]

und in diesem Arbeitshaus war geboren worden, an einem Datum, das ich mir nicht die M√ľhe mache zu wiederholen, [...]

weil es in diesem Stadium der Ereignisse keine Bedeutung f√ľr den Leser hat, [...]

der Sterbliche, der in der √úberschrift zu diesem Kapital genannt wird.

Lange, nachdem es in diese Welt der Sorgen und des Leids vom Wundarzt der Gemeinde gebracht wurde, [...] .

bestanden betr√§chtliche Zweifel, ob das Kind √ľberleben w√ľrde, um √ľberhaupt einen Namen zu tragen; [...]

in diesem Fall ist es durchaus wahrscheinlicher, dass diese Memoiren nie erschienen wären; [...].

oder wären sie, dann hätten sie nur aus ein paar Seiten bestanden. […].

they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, […].

die in der Literatur jedes Zeitalters oder Landes existieren.

Auch wenn ich nicht geneigt bin, zu behaupten, dass in einem Armenhause geboren zu sein, [...].

ist in sich selbst der gl√ľcklichste und beneidenswerteste Umstand, der m√∂glicherweise einem menschen Wesen widerfahren kann, [...].

Ich meine damit, dass in diesem speziellen Fall, es das Beste f√ľr Oliver Twist war, was m√∂glicherweise h√§tte geschehen k√∂nnen.

Tatsache ist, es war ziemlich schwierig, Oliver dazu zu bringen, selbst die Atmung zu √ľbernehmen, [‚Ķ].

eine l√§stige T√§tigkeit, aber eine die f√ľr unsere m√ľhelose Existenz n√∂tig ist; [‚Ķ].

und er lag f√ľr einige Zeit keuchend auf einer kleinen Schafwollmatratze, ungleich verharrend zwischen dieser Welt und der N√§chsten.

das Gleichgewicht war eindeutig mehr in Richtung der Letztgenannten.

Nun, wenn Oliver in dieser kurzen Zeit von achtsamen Gro√üm√ľttern umgeben gewesen w√§re, [...]

besorgten Tanten, erfahrenen Krankenschwestern, und √Ąrzten von tiefer Weisheit, [...].

wäre er höchst ausnahms- und zweifellos sehr schnell getötet worden.

There being nobody by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer; […].

and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver and Nature fought out the point between them.

Das Ergebnis war, dass, nach einigem Strampeln, Oliver atmete, nieste, [..].

und damit fortfuhr, den Bewohnern des Armenhauses die Tatsache anzuk√ľndigen, dass eine neue Last der Gemeinde auferlegt worden war, [...].

indem er einen so lauten Schrei ausstie√ü, wie man vern√ľnftigerweise von einem m√§nnliches S√§ugling h√§tte erwarten k√∂nnen, [‚Ķ].

who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, […].

a voice, for a much longer space of time than three minutes and a quarter.

As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of his lungs, […].

Die Patchwork-Tagesdecke, die nachl√§ssig √ľber das eiserne Bettgestell geworfen worden war, raschelte; [...].

das bleiche Gesicht der jungen Frau war kraftlos vom Kissen aufgerichtet; [...].

und eine schwache Stimme sprach kaum verständlich die Worte aus, "Lasst mich das Kind sehen und sterben." […].

Der Arzt hatte mit dem Gesicht zum Feuer gesessen: [...]

und wärmte und rieb die Handflächen seiner Hände abwechselnd.

Als die junge Frau sprach, erhob er sich, und sagte, während er sich dem Kopfteil des Bettes näherte, [...].

liebevoller, als man von ihm erwarten w√ľrde: "Oh, Sie d√ľrfen jetzt noch nicht √ľber das Sterben reden." [‚Ķ].

‚ÄěDer Herr segne sie, das liebe Kind, nein!‚Äú warf die Krankenschwester ein, und versteckte eilig eine gr√ľne Glasflasche in ihrer Tasche, [....].

deren Inhalt sie in einer Ecke mit ersichtlicher Befriedigung gekostet hatte.

"Der Herr segne sie, das liebe Kind, wenn es schon so lange gelebt hat wie ich, [....].

Sir, und hatte dreizehn eigene Kinder; und alle, außer zweien, sind tot, [..].

und sie im Armenhaus mit mir, wird sie es besser wissen, als es so anzugehenen, gesegnet seist du, liebes Wesen! […].

Denk daran, was es bedeutet, eine Mutter zu sein, da ist ist etwas zu tun, wie bei einem jungen Lamm." [...].

Offensichtlich war diese tröstliche Perspektive der Aussicht Mutter zu sein, nicht in der Lage, den erwarteten Effekt zu erzeugen.

Die Patientin sch√ľttelte ihren Kopf und streckte ihre Hand nach dem Kind aus.

Der Arzt legte es in ihre Arme.

Sie dr√ľckte ihre kalten, wei√üen Lippen leidenschaftlich auf seine Stirn;

f√ľhrte ihre H√§nde √ľber ihr Gesicht; schaute wild umher; erzitterte; fiel zur√ľck - und starb.

Sie rieben ihre Brust, H√§nde und Schl√§fen; aber das Blut war f√ľr immer zum Stillstand gekommen.

Sie sprachen von Hoffnung und Trost.

Sie waren zu lange Fremde gewesen.

"Es ist vorbei, Mrs.

Thingummy!'" sagte schließlich der Arzt.

" Ah, armes Kind, so ist es!" sagte die Krankenschwester und nahm den Korken der gr√ľnen Flasche auf, [...].

der auf das Kissen herausgefallen war, als sie sich b√ľckte, um das Kind hochzunehmen.

"Armes Kind!" "Sie m√ľssen sich nicht die M√ľhe machen, noch mir zu schicken, wenn das Kind schreit, Schwester," [..].

sagte der Arzt und zog seine Handschuhe sehr bedächtig an.

"Es ist sehr wahrscheinlich, dass es unangenehm wird.

Gebt ihm etwas Haferschleim, wenn er es ist." […].

Er zog seinen Hut auf und f√ľgte, auf dem Weg zur T√ľr an der Bettseite verweilend, hinzu, [...].

"Sie war auch ein gutaussehendes Mädchen; wo kam sie her?" [...].

"Sie wurde letzte Nacht hergebracht," antwortete die alte Frau, "auf Befehl des Aufsehers.

Man hat sie, in der Straße liegend, gefunden.

Sie war ein St√ľck weit gelaufen, da ihre Schuhe zerrissen waren.

aber, wo sie her kam oder wo sie hingehen wollte, niemand weiß es."

Der Arzt beugte sich √ľber den K√∂rper und hob die linke Hand hoch.

"Die alte Geschichte", sagte er und sch√ľttelte den Kopf, " ich sehe keinen Hochzeitsring.

Ah! Gute Nacht!" Der Mediziner ging zum Abendessen; [...].

und die Krankenschwester, nachdem sie sich noch einmal an der gr√ľnen Flasche bedient hatte, [...].

setzte sich auf den flachen Sessel vor dem Feuer, und fuhr fort, das Baby anzuziehen.

Was f√ľr ein excellentes Beispiel f√ľr die Macht der Kleidung war der junge Oliver Twist! [‚Ķ].

Eingeh√ľllt in die Decke, die bis dahin seine einzige Bedeckung bildete, [...].

könnte er das Kind eines Adligen oder eines Bettlers gewesen sein; [...].

w√§re es f√ľr den hochm√ľtigsten Fremden schwierig gewesen, ihm seine eigene gesellschaftliche Stellung zuzuweisen.

Aber jetzt, wo er in die alten Baumwollkleider eingeh√ľllt war, die durch die gleiche Benutzung gelb geworden waren, [...].

er war gekennzeichnet und hatte ein Label, und ordnete sich sofort seinem Platz zu - ein Kind der Gemeinde - der Waise eines Armenhauses - der ärmliche, [...].

halb verhungerte Arbeitssklave, um √ľberall herumgesto√üen und geschlagen zu werden, von allen verachtet und von niemandem bemitleidet.

Oliver schrie aus vollem Halse.

Wenn er gewusst haben könnte, dass er ein Waise sei, […].

der liebevollen Barmherzigkeit von Kirchenpfleger und Aufseher √ľberlassen, h√§tte er vielleicht noch lauter geweint.
unit 1
Treats of the place where Oliver Twist was born and of the circumstances attending his birth.
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and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, […].
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the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.
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For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, […].
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in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; […].
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or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, […].
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extant in the literature of any age or country.
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Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, […].
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is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, […].
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a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; […].
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the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter.
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Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, […].
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anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, […].
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he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time.
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The result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, […].
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by setting up as loud a cry as could reasonably have been expected from a male infant […].
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who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, […].
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the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; […].
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the pale face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pillow; […].
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and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, 'Let me see the child, and die.'
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[…].
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The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire: […].
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giving the palms of his hands a warm and a rub alternately.
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As the young woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, […].
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with more kindness than might have been expected of him: 'Oh, you must not talk about dying yet.'
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[…].
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'Lor bless her dear heart, no!'
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interposed the nurse, hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, […].
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the contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction.
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'Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, […].
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sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, […].
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and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart!
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[…].
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Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young lamb do.'
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[…].
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Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's prospects failed in producing its due effect.
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The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the child.
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The surgeon deposited it in her arms.
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She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; […].
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passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back‚ÄĒand died.
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They chafed her breast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped forever.
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They talked of hope and comfort.
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They had been strangers too long.
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'It's all over, Mrs.
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Thingummy!'
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said the surgeon at last.
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'Ah, poor dear, so it is!'
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said the nurse, picking up the cork of the green bottle, […].
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which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child.
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'Poor dear!'
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'You needn't mind sending up to me, if the child cries, nurse,' […].
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said the surgeon, putting on his gloves with great deliberation.
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'It's very likely it will be troublesome.
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Give it a little gruel if it is.'
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[…].
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He put on his hat, and, pausing by the bed-side on his way to the door, added, […].
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'She was a good-looking girl, too; where did she come from?'
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[…].
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'She was brought here last night,' replied the old woman, 'by the overseer's order.
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She was found lying in the street.
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She had walked some distance, for her shoes were worn to pieces; […].
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but where she came from, or where she was going to, nobody knows.'
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The surgeon leaned over the body, and raised the left hand.
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'The old story,' he said, shaking his head: 'no wedding-ring, I see.
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Ah!
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Good-night!'
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The medical gentleman walked away to dinner; […].
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and the nurse, having once more applied herself to the green bottle, […].
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sat down on a low chair before the fire, and proceeded to dress the infant.
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What an excellent example of the power of dress, young Oliver Twist was!
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[…].
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Wrapped in the blanket which had hitherto formed his only covering, […].
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he might have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar; […].
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it would have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to have assigned him his proper station in society.
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But now that he was enveloped in the old calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service, […].
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Oliver cried lustily.
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If he could have known that he was an orphan, […].
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left to the tender mercies of church-wardens and overseers, perhaps he would have cried the louder.
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Treats of the place where Oliver Twist was born and of the circumstances attending his birth.

Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, […].

and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; […].

and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, […].

inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; […].

the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.

For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, […].

it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; […].

in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; […].

or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, […].

they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, […].

extant in the literature of any age or country.

Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, […].

is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, […].

I do mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred.

The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty in inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office of respiration, […].

a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; […].

and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: […].

the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter.

Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, […].

anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, […].

he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time.

There being nobody by, however, but a pauper old woman, who was rendered rather misty by an unwonted allowance of beer; […].

and a parish surgeon who did such matters by contract; Oliver and Nature fought out the point between them.

The result was, that, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed, […].

and proceeded to advertise to the inmates of the workhouse the fact of a new burden having been imposed upon the parish, […].

by setting up as loud a cry as could reasonably have been expected from a male infant […].

who had not been possessed of that very useful appendage, […].

a voice, for a much longer space of time than three minutes and a quarter.

As Oliver gave this first proof of the free and proper action of his lungs, […].

the patchwork coverlet which was carelessly flung over the iron bedstead, rustled; […].

the pale face of a young woman was raised feebly from the pillow; […].

and a faint voice imperfectly articulated the words, 'Let me see the child, and die.' […].

The surgeon had been sitting with his face turned towards the fire: […].

giving the palms of his hands a warm and a rub alternately.

As the young woman spoke, he rose, and advancing to the bed's head, said, […].

with more kindness than might have been expected of him: 'Oh, you must not talk about dying yet.' […].

'Lor bless her dear heart, no!' interposed the nurse, hastily depositing in her pocket a green glass bottle, […].

the contents of which she had been tasting in a corner with evident satisfaction.

'Lor bless her dear heart, when she has lived as long as I have, […].

sir, and had thirteen children of her own, and all on 'em dead except two, […].

and them in the wurkus with me, she'll know better than to take on in that way, bless her dear heart! […].

Think what it is to be a mother, there's a dear young lamb do.' […].

Apparently this consolatory perspective of a mother's prospects failed in producing its due effect.

The patient shook her head, and stretched out her hand towards the child.

The surgeon deposited it in her arms.

She imprinted her cold white lips passionately on its forehead; […].

passed her hands over her face; gazed wildly round; shuddered; fell back‚ÄĒand died.

They chafed her breast, hands, and temples; but the blood had stopped forever.

They talked of hope and comfort.

They had been strangers too long.

'It's all over, Mrs.

Thingummy!' said the surgeon at last.

'Ah, poor dear, so it is!' said the nurse, picking up the cork of the green bottle, […].

which had fallen out on the pillow, as she stooped to take up the child.

'Poor dear!' 'You needn't mind sending up to me, if the child cries, nurse,' […].

said the surgeon, putting on his gloves with great deliberation.

'It's very likely it will be troublesome.

Give it a little gruel if it is.' […].

He put on his hat, and, pausing by the bed-side on his way to the door, added, […].

'She was a good-looking girl, too; where did she come from?' […].

'She was brought here last night,' replied the old woman, 'by the overseer's order.

She was found lying in the street.

She had walked some distance, for her shoes were worn to pieces; […].

but where she came from, or where she was going to, nobody knows.'

The surgeon leaned over the body, and raised the left hand.

'The old story,' he said, shaking his head: 'no wedding-ring, I see.

Ah! Good-night!' The medical gentleman walked away to dinner; […].

and the nurse, having once more applied herself to the green bottle, […].

sat down on a low chair before the fire, and proceeded to dress the infant.

What an excellent example of the power of dress, young Oliver Twist was! […].

Wrapped in the blanket which had hitherto formed his only covering, […].

he might have been the child of a nobleman or a beggar; […].

it would have been hard for the haughtiest stranger to have assigned him his proper station in society.

But now that he was enveloped in the old calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service, […].

he was badged and ticketed, and fell into his place at once‚ÄĒa parish child‚ÄĒthe orphan of a workhouse‚ÄĒthe humble, [‚Ķ].

half-starved drudge‚ÄĒto be cuffed and buffeted through the world‚ÄĒdespised by all, and pitied by none.

Oliver cried lustily.

If he could have known that he was an orphan, […].

left to the tender mercies of church-wardens and overseers, perhaps he would have cried the louder.