Hello.
Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you a calm and entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.
Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey to a time long since forgotten.
But before we begin,
Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
That's it.
Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 10.
Oliver becomes better acquainted with the characters of his new associates and purchases experience at a high price,
Being a short but very important chapter in his history.
For many days,
Oliver remained in the Jew's room,
Picking the marks out of the pocket handkerchief,
Of which a great number were brought home,
And sometimes taking part in the game already described,
Which the two boys and the Jew played regularly every morning.
At length,
He began to languish for fresh air and took many occasions of earnestly entertaining himself with a cup of coffee or a cup of tea.
At length,
He began to languish for fresh air and took many occasions of earnestly entreating the old gentleman to allow him to go out to work with his two companions.
Oliver was rendered the more anxious to be actively employed by what he had seen of the stern morality of the old gentleman's character.
Whenever the Dodger or Charlie Bates came home at night empty-handed,
He would expatiate with great vehemence on the misery of idle and lazy habits,
And would enforce upon them the necessity of an active life by sending them supperless to bed.
On one occasion,
Indeed,
He even went so far as to knock them both down a flight of stairs,
But this was carrying out his virtuous precepts to an unusual extent.
At length,
One morning,
Oliver obtained the permission he so desired.
There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon for two or three days,
And the dinners had been rather meagre.
Perhaps these were the reasons for the old gentleman's giving his assent,
But whether they were or no,
He told Oliver he might go,
And placed him under the joint guardianship of Charlie Bates and his friend the Dodger.
The three boys sallied out,
The Dodger with his coat-sleeves tucked up and his hat cocked,
Master Bates sauntering along with his hands in his pockets,
And Oliver between them,
Wondering where they were going and what branch of manufacture he would be instructed in first.
The pace at which they went was such a very lazy,
Ill-looking saunter that Oliver soon began to think he was going to be a bit of a fool.
Oliver soon began to think his companions were going to deceive the old gentleman by not going to work at all.
The Dodger had a vicious propensity,
Too,
Of pulling down the caps from the heads of small boys and tossing them away.
Charlie Bates exhibited some very loose notions concerning the rights of property by pilfering divers' apples and onions from the stalls at the kennel sites.
These things looked so bad,
Oliver was on the point of declaring his intention of sinking his way back when his thoughts were suddenly directed into another channel by a very mysterious change of behaviour on the part of Dodger.
They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the open square in Clerkenwell when the Dodger made a sudden stop and,
Laying his finger on his lip,
Drew his companions back again with the greatest caution and circumspection.
"'What's the matter?
' demanded Oliver.
"'Hush!
' replied the Dodger.
"'Do you see that old cunv at the book stall?
' "'The old gentleman over the way,
' said Oliver.
"'Yes,
I see him.
' "'He'll do,
' said the Dodger.
"'A prime plant,
' observed Master Charlie Bates.
"'Yes,
I see him.
' Oliver looked from one to the other with a greatest surprise,
But he was not permitted to make any enquiries for the two boys walked stealthily across the road and slunk close behind the old gentleman towards whom his attention had been directed.
Oliver walked a few paces after them and,
Not knowing whether to advance or retire,
Stood looking on in silent amazement.
The old gentleman was a very respectable-looking personage with a powdered head and gold spectacles.
He was dressed in a bottle-green coat with a black velvet collar.
He wore white trousers and carried a smart bamboo cane under his arm.
He had taken up a book from the stall and there he stood reading away as hard as if he were in his elbow chair.
It is very possible he fancied himself there for it was plain from his abstraction he saw not the book stall,
Nor the street,
Nor the boys,
Nor anything in short but the book itself,
Which he was reading straight through.
What was Oliver's horror and alarm as he stood a few paces off,
Looking on with his eyelids as wide open as they would possibly go,
To see the Dodger plunge his hand into the old gentleman's pocket and draw from thence a handkerchief.
To see him hand the same to Charlie Bates and finally to behold them both running away round the corner at full speed.
In an instant the whole mystery of the handkerchiefs and the watches and the jewels and the dew rushed upon the boy's mind.
He stood for a moment with a blood so tingling through all his veins from terror that he felt as if he were in a burning fire.
Then confused and frightened he took to his heels and not knowing what he did made off as fast as he could lay his feet to the ground.
This was all done in a minute's pace.
In the very instant when Oliver began to run the old gentleman putting his hand to his pocket and missing his handkerchief turned sharp round.
Seeing the boy scuttling away at such a rapid pace he very naturally concluded him to be the predator and shouting,
Stop Thief!
With all his might made off after him book in hand.
But the old gentleman was not the only person who raised the hue and cry.
The Dodger and Master Bates,
Unwilling to attract public attention by running down the open street,
Had retired into the first doorway round the corner.
They no sooner heard the cry and saw Oliver running than guessing how the matter stood,
Issued forth with great promptitude and shouting,
Stop Thief!
Joined in the pursuit like good citizens.
Although Oliver had been brought up by philosophers he was not theoretically acquainted with a beautiful axiom that self-preservation is the first law of nature.
If he had been,
Perhaps he would have been prepared for this.
Not being prepared,
However,
It alarmed him the more.
So away he went like the wind with the old gentleman and the two boys roaring and shouting behind him,
Stop Thief!
Stop Thief!
There is a magic in the sound.
The tradesman leaves his counter,
The carman his wagon,
The butcher throws down his tray,
The baker his basket,
The milkman his pail,
The errand boy his parcels,
The schoolboy his marbles,
The pavier his pickaxe,
The child his battledore.
Away they run,
Pell-mell,
Helter-skelter,
Slapdash,
Tearing,
Yelling,
Screaming,
Knocking down the passengers as they turn the corners,
Rousing up the dogs and astonishing the fowls,
And streets,
Squares and courts re-echo with the sound,
Stop Thief!
The cry is taken up by a hundred voices and the crowd accumulated every turning.
Away they fly,
Splashing through the mud and rattling along the pavements.
Up go the windows,
Out run the people,
Onward bear the mob.
A whole audience desert punch in the very thickest of the plot and joining the rushing throng,
Swell the shout and lend fresh vigor to the cry,
Stop Thief!
There is a passion for hunting something,
Deeply implanted in the human breast.
One wretched,
Breathless child,
Panting with exhaustion,
Terror in his looks,
Agony in his eyes.
Large drops of perspiration streaming down his face,
Strains every nerve to make head upon his pursuers and as they follow on his track and gain upon him every instance,
They hail his decreasing strength with joy,
Stop Thief!
Stop him for God's sake!
Were it only in mercy!
Stopped at last,
A clever blow,
He is down upon the pavement and the crowd eagerly gather round him.
Each newcomer jostling and struggling with the others to catch a glimpse,
Stand aside,
Give him a little air,
Nonsense,
He don't deserve it.
Where's the gentleman?
Here he is,
Coming down the street,
Make room there for the gentleman.
Is this the boy,
Sir?
Yes.
Oliver lay covered with mud and dust and bleeding from the mouth,
Looking wildly upon the heap of faces that surrounded him when the old gentleman was officially dragged and pushed into the circle by the foremost of the pursuers.
It wasn't me,
Sir.
Indeed,
Sir.
Indeed,
It was the other two boys,
Said Oliver,
Clasping his hands passionately and looking around.
They're here somewhere.
Oh no,
They ain't,
Said an officer.
He meant this to be ironical,
But it was true besides,
For the Dodger and Charlie Bates had filed off down the first convenient court they came to.
Come on,
Get up.
Don't hurt him,
Said the old gentleman compassionately.
I won't hurt him,
Replied the officer.
Will you stand upon your legs,
You young devil?
Oliver,
Who could hardly stand,
Made a shift to raise himself on his feet and was at once lugged along the streets by the jacket collar at a rapid pace.
The gentleman walked on with him by the officer's side and as many of the crowd as could achieve the feat got a little head and stared back at Oliver from time to time.
The boys,
Meanwhile,
Shouted in triumph and on they went.
