: Charles Dickens
: Oliver Twist, Vol. 2 (of 3)
: Krill Press
: 9781518373367
: 1
: CHF 1.50
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 204
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Char es Dickens needs no formal introduction, having been the most popular English writer of the 19th century and still one of the most popular writers in history today.Dickens was obsessed with reading, making him a natural journalist by the age of 20, when he began a career in journalism. Along the way, he also began writing his own short stories and materials, often serializing them in monthly installments in publications, a popular method of publishing in the 19th century. Unlike most writers, Dickens would not write an entire story before it began its serialization, allowing him to work on the fly and leave plot lines up in the air with each opportunity. 



By the time he died at the relatively young age of 58 from a stroke, he was already Europe's most famous writer. His obituary noted that Dickens was a 'sympathiser with the poor, the suffering, and the oppressed.' Dickens was interred in Westminster Abbey, a rare honor bestowed only among the greatest and most accomplished Britons. 

Many of Dickens' novels were written with the concept of social reform in mind, and Dickens' work was often praised for its realism, comic genius and unique personalities. At the same time, however, Dickens' ability as a writer was nearly unrivaled, with his ability to write in prose unquestioned and unmatched. 

CHAPTER XX. WHEREIN OLIVER IS DELIVERED OVER TO MR. WILLIAM SIKES.


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WHEN OLIVER AWOKE IN THE morning he was a good deal surprised to find that a new pair of shoes with strong thick soles had been placed at his bedside, and that his old ones had been removed. At first he was pleased with the discovery, hoping that it might be the forerunner of his release; but such thoughts were quickly dispelled on his sitting down to breakfast alone with the Jew, who told him, in a tone and manner which increased his alarm, that he was to be taken to the residence of Bill Sikes that night.

“To—to—stop there, sir?” asked Oliver, anxiously.

“No, no, my dear, not to stop there,” replied the Jew. “We shouldn’t like to lose you. Don’t be afraid, Oliver, you shall come back to us again. Ha! ha! ha! We wont be so cruel as to send you away, my dear. Oh no, no!”

The old man, who was stooping over the fire toasting a piece of bread, looked round as he bantered Oliver thus, and chuckled as if to shew that he knew he would still be very glad to get away if he could.

“I suppose,” said the Jew, fixing his eyes on Oliver, “you want to know what you’re going to Bill’s for—eh, my dear?”

Oliver coloured involuntarily to find that the old thief had been reading his thoughts; but boldly said, “Yes, he did want to know.”

“Why, do you think?” inquired Fagin, parrying the question.

“Indeed I don’t know, sir,” replied Oliver.

“Bah!