God Bless Us Every One! Said Tiny

And What An Example Of The Power Of Dress Young Oliver Twist Was! Wrapped In The Blanket Which Had Hitherto Formed His Only Covering, He Might Have Been The Child Of A Nobleman Or A Beggar;—it Would Have Been Hard For The Haughtiest Stranger To Have Fixed His Station In Society. But Now He Was Enveloped In The Old Calico Robes, That Had Grown Yellow In The Same Service; He Was Badged And Ticketed, And Fell Into His Place At Once—a Parish Child—the Orphan Of A Workhouse—the Humble, Half-starved Drudge—to Be Cuffed And Buffeted Through The World, Despised By All, And Pitied By None.

He Did Each Single Thing As If He Did Nothing Else.

Morning Drew On Apace. The Air Became More Sharp And Piercing, As Its First Dull Hue: The Death Of Night, Rather Than The Birth Of Day: Glimmered Faintly In The Sky. The Objects Which Had Looked Dim And Terrible In The Darkness, Grew More And More Defined, And Gradually Resolved Into Their Familiar Shapes. The Rain Came Down, Thick And Fast; And Pattered, Noisily, Among The Leafless Bushes.

It's Over, And Can't Be Helped, And That's One Consolation, As They Always Say In Turkey, When They Cut The Wrong Man's Head Off.

There Is Something Good In All Weathers. If It Doesn't Happen To Be Good For My Work Today, It's Good For Some Other Man's Today... And Will Come Around For Me Tomorrow.