three months; at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been used to that sort ef thing, (for his father had kept a small cook shop,) hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin of gruel per diem, he was afraid he should some night eat the boy who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender age. He had a wild, hungry eye, and they implicitly believed him. A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to Oliver Twist.

The evening arrived; the boys took their places; the master in his cook's uniform stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out, and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared, and the boys whispered each other and winked at Oliver, while his next neighbors nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger and reckless with misery. He rose from the table, and advancing, basin and spoon in hand, to the master, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity—

"Please, sir, I want some more."

The master was a fat, healthy man, but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder, and the boys with fear.

“What!” said the master at length, in a faint voice. "Please, sir,” replied Oliver, "I want some more."

The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle, pinioned him in his arms, and shrieked aloud for the beadle.

The board were sitting in solemn conclave when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,—

"Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir;-Oliver Twist has asked for more." There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every

countenance.

"For more!" said Mr. Limbkins. "Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary ?"

"He did, sir," replied Bumble.

"That boy will be hung," said the gentleman in the white waistcoat; I know that boy will be hung."

No body controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An animated'discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside of the gate, offer. ing a reward of five pounds to any body who would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish in other words. five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or calling.

"I never was more convinced of any thing in my life,,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate and read the bill next morning,-"I never was more convinced of any thing in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be hung."

As I propose to show in the sequel whether the white-waistcoated gentleman was right or not, I should perhaps mar the interest of this narrative, (supposing it to possess any at all,) if I venture to hint just yet, whether the life of Oliver Twist will be a long or short piece of biography.