雾都孤儿读书笔记2

This week, I read the first chapter of Oliver Twist which was named Treats of the Place Where Oliver Twist was Born and the Circumstances Attending His Birth.

This part tells us the sad and serious background of this story. Oliver Twist was born in a workhouse. There is no concentrate date about him, because it can be of no possible consequence to the reader.

In this story, the author is not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, he does mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred.

After Oliver Twist was born, he can’t breathe well. For sometime he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: the balance being decidedly in favour of the latter. Luckily, after a few struggles, Oliver breathed, sneezed. Now, he is safe. Oliver’s mother tried her best to see the lively kid. A lot of people bless her. But she still left the world. Everyone didn’t know where she came. There was on ring in her hand, so she was no marry.

Young Oliver Twist was enveloped in the old calico robes which had grown yellow in the same service. So he was despised by all, and pitied by none.

Oliver cried lustily. If he could have known that he was an orphan, left

to the tender mercies of church-wardens and overseers, perhaps he would have the louder.