A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist

"A Brave and Honest Boy, Oliver Twist" is a retelling of Charles Dickens' classic tale, "Oliver Twist," which follows the journey of a young orphan boy named Oliver. Born into a life of poverty and hardship in a workhouse, Oliver escapes to seek a better life in London. Along the way, he encounters a colorful cast of characters, including kind-hearted souls and criminal elements, as he grapples with issues of morality, identity, and the search for belonging. Through his courage and innocence, Oliver's story highlights the struggles of the underprivileged and the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity. This adaptation emphasizes themes of bravery, honesty, and the quest for love and acceptance.

• Children

								
LITTLE Oliver Twist was an orphan. He never saw his mother or his
father. He was born at the workhouse, the home for paupers, where his
poor heart-broken mother had been taken just a short time before baby
Oliver came; and, the very night he was born, she was so sick and weak
she said: "Let me see my child and then I will die." The old nurse said:
"Nonsense, my dear, you must not think of dying, you have something now
to live for." The good kind doctor said she must be very brave and she
might get well. They brought her little baby boy to her, and she hugged
him in her weak arms and she kissed him on the brow many times and
cuddled him up as close as her feeble arms could hold him; and then she
looked at him long and steadily, and a sweet smile came over her face
and a bright light came into her eyes, and before the smile could pass
from her lips she died.

The old nurse wept as she took the little baby from its dead mother's
arms; and the good doctor had to wipe the tears from his eyes, it was
so very, very sad.

After wrapping the baby in a blanket and laying him in a warm place, the
old nurse straightened out the limbs of the young mother and folded her
hands on her breast; and, spreading a white sheet over her still form,
she called the doctor to look at her--for the nurse and the doctor were
all who were there. The same sweet smile was on her face, and the doctor
said as he looked upon her: "Poor, poor girl, she is so beautiful and so
young! What strange fate has brought her to this poor place? Nurse, take
good care of the baby, for his mother must have been, at one time, a
kind and gentle woman."

The next day they took the unknown woman out to the potter's field and
buried her; and, for nine months, the old nurse at the workhouse took
care of the baby; though, it is sad to say, this old woman, kind-hearted
though she was, was at the same time so fond of gin that she often took
the money, which ought to have bought milk for the baby, to buy drink
for herself.

Nobody knew what the young mother's name was, and so this baby had no
name, until, at last, Mr. Bumble, who was one of the parish officers
who looked after the paupers, came and named him Oliver Twist.

When little Oliver was nine months old they took him away from the
workhouse and carried him to the "Poor Farm," where there were
twenty-five or thirty other poor children who had no parents. A woman by
the name of Mrs. Mann had charge of this cottage. The parish gave her an
allowance of enough money to keep the children in plenty of food and
clothing; but she starved the little ones to keep the money for herself,
so that many of them died and others came to take their places. But
young Oliver was a tough little fellow, and, while he looked very pale
and thin, he was, otherwise, healthy and hung on to his life.

Mrs. Mann was also very cruel to the children. She would scold and beat
them and shut them up in the cellar and treat them meanly in many ways
when no visitors were there. But, when any of the men who had control or
visitors came around, she would smile and call the children "dear," and
all sorts of pet names. She told them if any of them should tell on her
she would beat them; and, furthermore, that they should tell visitors
that she was very kind and good to them and that they loved her very
much.

Mr. Bumble was a very mean man, too, as we shall see. They called him
the Beadle, which means he was a sort of sheriff or policeman; and he
was supposed to look after the people at the workhouse and at the poor
farm and to wait on the directors who had charge of these places. He had
the right to punish the boys if they did not mind, and they were all
afraid of him.

Oliver remained at the cottage on the poor farm until he was nine years
old, though he was a pale little fellow and did not look to be over
seven.

On the morning of his birthday, Mrs. Mann had given Oliver and two other
boys a bad whipping and put them down in a dark coal-cellar. Presently
she saw Mr. Bumble coming and she told her servant to take the boys out
and wash them quick, for she did not let Mr. Bumble know she ever
punished them, and was fearful he might hear them crying in the dark,
damp place. Mrs. Mann talked very nicely to Mr. Bumble and made him a
"toddy" (a glass of strong liquor) and kept him busy with her flattering
and kindness until she knew the boys were washed.

Mr. Bumble told her Oliver Twist was nine years old that day, and the
Board (which meant the men in charge) had decided they must take him
away from the farm and carry him back to the workhouse. Mrs. Mann
pretended to be very sorry, and she went out and brought Oliver in,
telling him on the way that he must appear very sorry to leave her,
otherwise she would beat him. So when Oliver was asked if he wanted to
go, he said he was sorry to leave there. This was not a falsehood, for,
miserable as the place was, he dearly loved his little companions. They
were all the people he knew; and he did feel sad, and really wept with
sorrow as he told them good-by and was led by Mr. Bumble back to the
workhouse, where he was born and where his mother died nine years ago
that very day.

When he got back there he found the old nurse who remembered his mother,
and she told him she was a beautiful sweet woman and how she had kissed
him and held him in her arms when she died. Night after night little
Oliver dreamed about his beautiful mother, and she seemed sometimes to
stand by his bed and to look down upon him with the same beautiful eyes
and the same sweet smile of which the nurse told him. Every time he had
the chance he asked questions about her, but the nurse could not tell
him anything more. She did not even know her name.

Oliver had been at the workhouse only a very short time when Mr. Bumble
came in and told him he must appear before the Board at once. Now Oliver
was puzzled at this. He thought a board was a piece of flat wood, and he
could not imagine why he was to appear before that. But he was too much
afraid of Mr. Bumble to ask any questions. This gentleman had treated
him roughly in bringing him to the workhouse; and, now, when he looked a
little puzzled--for his expressive face always told what was in his
honest little heart--Mr. Bumble gave him a sharp crack on the head with
his cane and another rap over the back and told him to wake up and not
look so sleepy, and to mind to be polite when he went before the Board.
Oliver could not help tears coming into his eyes as he was pushed along,
and Mr. Bumble gave him another sharp rap, telling him to hush, and
ushered him into a room where several stern-looking gentlemen sat at a
long table. One of them, in a white waistcoat, was particularly
hard-looking. "Bow to the Board," said Mr. Bumble to Oliver. Oliver
looked about for a board, and, seeing none, he bowed to the table,
because it looked more like a board than anything else. The men laughed,

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