The Sun.
London, England, 1838-11-01 00:00:00

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

There is much broad humour, verging on caricature, in
the present chapters of Oliver Twist, which exhibit the old
Jew Fagin—a character hitherto not to be contemplated
without a shudder—in a new light, as a fellow of infinite
drollery. The dialogue between this Protean scamp and
Noah Claypole, at the flash public-house, the Three
Cripples, where, on the payment of a fee of twenty pounds,
he offers to make Noah one of the " family," teach him the
" business," and put him up to such pleasant " fancy work"
as prigging handkerchiefs, &C., is irresistable, in its ludi-
crous extravagance. So, also, is the conversation that takes
pkice between the Jew and and his young protege, Charley
Bates, who, while bewailing the capture of his friend the
Dodger, is thus consoled by the comical old Ishmaelite :
" It's all up, Fagin," said Charley, when he and his new
companion had been made known to each other.
" What do you mean ?" asked the Jew with trembling lips.
" They've found the gentleman as owns the box ; two or
three more's a coming to 'dentify him, and the Artful's booked
for a passage out," replied Master Bates. " I must have a
fall suit of mourning, Fagin, and a hatband, to wisit him in,
afore he sets out upon his travels. To think of Jack Dawkins'
—tummy Jack—the Dodger—the Artful Dodger—going
abroad for a common twopenny-halfpenny sneeze-box 1 I
never thought he'd ha done it under a gold watch, chain, and
seals, at the lowest. Oh ! why didn't he rob some rich old
gentleman of all his walables, and go out as a gentleman, and
not like a common prig, without no honour nor glory 1"
With this expression of feeling for his unfortunate friend,
Master Bates sat himself on the nearest chair with an aspect
of chagrin and despondency.
" What do you talk about his having neither honour nor
glory for 1" exclaimed Fagin, darting an angry look at his
pupil, " Wasn't he always top-sawyer among you all ?—is
there one of you that could touch him, or come near him, on
any scent—eh ?"
Not one," replied Master Bates, in a voice rendered
husky by regret—" not one."
" Then what do you talk of ?" replied the Jew angrily ;
" what arc you blubbering for?"
" 'Cause it isn't on the rec-ord, is it ?" said Charley, chafed
into perfect defiance of his venerable friend by the current of
his regrets; "'cause it can't come out in the indictment;
'cause nobody will never know half of what be was.
he stand in the Neivgate Calendar? P'raps not be there at
all. Oh, my eye, my eye, wot a blow it is 1"
"Ha ha 1" cried the Jew, extending his right hand, and
turning to Mr. Bolter in a fit of chuckling which shook him
as though be had the palsy; " see what a pride they take in
their profession, my dear. Isn't it beautiful ?"
Mr. Bolter nodded assent ; and the Jew, after contemplat-
ing the grief of Charley Bates for some seconds with evident
satisfaction, stepped up to that young gentleman, and patted
him on the shoulder.
" Never mind, Charley," said Fagin soothingly ; " it 'll
come out, it 'll be sure to come out. They 'll all know what
a clever fellow he
wdas ; he'll show it himself, and not dis-
grace his old pals and teachers. Think how young be is too
Whaltvael, i
distinction,
Charley, to be lagged at his time of life?"
is a honour—that is 1" said Charley, a little
consoled.
"He shall have all ho wants," continued the Jew. "He
shall bei kept in the Stone Jug, Charley, like a gentleman—
like a gentleman,pocketto
pite with his beer every day, and money in his
toss with, if he can't spend it."
No, shall iheanth cried Charley Bates.
bi;:v%Aigy: that he shall,"ough replied?" the Jew, " and we'll have a
—to carry on hisY'
defence
that's got the greatest gift
speechthe for him-
selfful Dodger_shriAand we'll read it all in the papers—' Art.
vulsed' eh, sof laughter—here the Court was
Cheriecon-
). eh?"
Cruickshank's Illustration of this chapter is one of his
most successful hits. The sly, ironical look of the quick-
witted Jew, admirably works out o 7 • B's conception of him.
In fact, ree
may say of this clever pictoral sketch—with the
mere alteration of one word—what Pope said of Macklin's
Shylock

" This is the Jew

That Dickens drew."
The <<Legend of Walter Childe' " is a sprightly, desul-
tory
Poem, modelled, as we have before observed, on Whis-
tlecraft's national Epic which most unaccountably failed
when published some ye'ars since. Song of the Earth to
the Mon,"
figured by contains some pleasing imagery, but it is dis-
affectation, as such quaint abstractions are too
apt to be. " Moliere and his Wife" is from the pen of Mr.
Hogarth, who lays before us the results of his various read-
ing in,a very agreeable manner. Nutmegs for Nightin-
gales,' consist of two humourous poems, the last of which,
entitled " I met her in the Omnibus," is a happy sample of
the mock-sentimental. " Gianni, or 'a Night Scene," is a
stirring tale, told with much dramatic skill. Of the
" Ghost Riders," we have no great opinion. It is a strange,

barbarous legend, which, though meant to be terrific, is
simply repulsive, like some of the hobgob]inisms of Monk
Lewis, that most unimaginative of all the pretenders to imagi-
nation. We are delighted to meet with that racy humourist
Tom Ingoldsbyagain. He is one of the brightest gems of the
Miscellany. His"Grandpapa's Story—the Witches' Frolic,"
is capital, so airy and spirited in its versification, so easy
in its digressions, so fertile in its comic imagery ! In his
own line, which is by no means a restricted one, Ingoldsby
is unsurpassed by the cleverest wag of the day. The
" French or English" is a light, sketchy essay on the social
peculiarities of these two great nations, and is the produc-
tion of one who has no slight acquaintance with both. He
observes—and we think justly—that on the whale the Eng-
lish are a gayer nation than their continental neighbours.
We would quote some of his remarks on this point, but
we are pressed for time and space, so must come abruptly
to a close.