Oliver Twist
AND LAST
The of those who have in this are nearly closed. The little that to their to relate, is told in and words.
Before three months had passed, Rose Fleming and Harry Maylie were married in the village church which was to be the of the clergyman’s labours; on the same day they entered into of their new and happy home.
Mrs. Maylie took up her with her son and daughter-in-law, to enjoy, the of her days, the that age and can know—the of the of those on the and of a well-spent life, have been bestowed.
It appeared, on full and investigation, that if the of property in the of Monks (which had either in his hands or in those of his mother) were himself and Oliver, it would yield, to each, little more than three thousand pounds. By the of his father’s will, Oliver would have been to the whole; but Mr. Brownlow, to the son of the opportunity of his and an career, this mode of distribution, to which his acceded.
Monks, still that name, retired with his to a part of the New World; where, having it, he once more into his old courses, and, after a long for some fresh act of and knavery, at length under an attack of his old disorder, and died in prison. As from home, died the members of his friend Fagin’s gang.
Mr. Brownlow Oliver as his son. Removing with him and the old to a mile of the parsonage-house, where his dear friends resided, he the only wish of Oliver’s warm and heart, and thus together a little society, condition approached as nearly to one of perfect as can be in this world.
Soon after the marriage of the people, the doctor returned to Chertsey, where, of the presence of his old friends, he would have been if his had of such a feeling; and would have if he had how. For two or three months, he himself with that he the air to with him; then, that the place no longer was, to him, what it had been, he settled his on his assistant, took a bachelor’s the village of which his friend was pastor, and recovered. Here he took to gardening, planting, fishing, carpentering, and other of a kind: all with his impetuosity. In each and all he has since famous the neighborhood, as a most authority.
Before his removal, he had managed to a for Mr. Grimwig, which that reciprocated. He is visited by Mr. Grimwig a great many times in the of the year. On all such occasions, Mr. Grimwig plants, fishes, and carpenters, with great ardour; doing in a very and manner, but always with his asseveration, that his mode is the right one. On Sundays, he fails to the to the clergyman’s face: always Mr. Losberne, in afterwards, that he it an excellent performance, but it as well not to say so. It is a and very joke, for Mr. Brownlow to him on his old Oliver, and to him of the night on which they sat with the watch them, waiting his return; but Mr. Grimwig that he was right in the main, and, in proof thereof, that Oliver did not come after all; which always calls a laugh on his side, and his good humour.
Mr. Noah Claypole: a free from the Crown in of being against Fagin: and his not as safe a one as he wish: was, for some little time, at a for the means of a livelihood, not with too much work. After some consideration, he into as an informer, in which calling he a subsistence. His plan is, to walk out once a week church time by Charlotte in attire. The lady away at the doors of publicans, and the being with three-penny of to her, an next day, and pockets the penalty. Sometimes Mr. Claypole himself, but the result is the same.
Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, of their situations, were to great and misery, and in that very same in which they had once it over others. Mr. Bumble has been to say, that in this and degradation, he has not to be for being from his wife.
As to Mr. Giles and Brittles, they still in their old posts, although the is bald, and the last-named boy grey. They sleep at the parsonage, but their so among its inmates, and Oliver and Mr. Brownlow, and Mr. Losberne, that to this day the have been able to to which they properly belong.
Master Charles Bates, by Sikes’s crime, into a train of an life was not, after all, the best. Arriving at the that it was, he his upon the of the past, to it in some new of action. He hard, and much, for some time; but, having a disposition, and a good purpose, succeeded in the end; and, from being a farmer’s drudge, and a carrier’s lad, he is now the in all Northamptonshire.
And now, the hand that these words, falters, as it the of its task; and would weave, for a little longer space, the of these adventures.
I would yet with a of those among I have so long moved, and their by to it. I would Rose Maylie in all the and of early womanhood, on her path in life soft and light, that on all who it with her, and into their hearts. I would paint her the life and of the fire-side circle and the group; I would her through the at noon, and the low of her sweet voice in the walk; I would watch her in all her and abroad, and the of at home; I would paint her and her sister’s child happy in their love for one another, and whole hours together in the friends they had so sadly lost; I would me, once again, those little that her knee, and to their prattle; I would the of that clear laugh, and up the tear that in the soft eye. These, and a thousand looks and smiles, and of and speech—I would them every one.
How Mr. Brownlow on, from day to day, the mind of his child with stores of knowledge, and to him, more and more, as his nature itself, and the of all he him to become—how he in him new of his early friend, that in his own old remembrances, and yet sweet and soothing—how the two orphans, by adversity, its lessons in to others, and love, and thanks to Him who had protected and them—these are all which need not to be told. I have said that they were happy; and without and of heart, and to that Being is Mercy, and great is Benevolence to all that breathe, can be attained.
Within the of the old village church there a white marble tablet, which as yet but one word: “AGNES.” There is no in that tomb; and may it be many, many years, another name is above it! But, if the of the Dead come to earth, to visit by the love—the love the grave—of those they in life, I that the of Agnes sometimes that nook. I it none the less that is in a Church, and she was weak and erring.
