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p>Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II

      ADDRESS

      Twelve months have elapsed since we first took the field, and every successive number of our Miscellany has experienced a warmer reception, and a more extensive circulation, than its predecessor.

      In the opening of the new year, and the commencement of our new volume, we hope to make many changes for the better, and none for the worse; and, to show that, while we have one grateful eye to past patronage, we have another wary one to future favours; in short, that, like the heroine of the sweet poem descriptive of the faithlessness and perjury of Mr. John Oakhum, of the Royal Navy, we look two ways at once.

      It is our intention to usher in the new year with a very merry greeting, towards the accomplishment of which end we have prevailed upon a long procession of distinguished friends to mount their hobbies on the occasion, in humble imitation of those adventurous and aldermanic spirits who gallantly bestrode their foaming chargers on the memorable ninth of this present month, while

      "The stones did rattle underneath,

      As if Cheapside were mad."

      These, and a hundred other great designs, preparations, and surprises, are in contemplation, for the fulfilment of all of which we are already bound in two volumes cloth, and have no objection, if it be any additional security to the public, to stand bound in twenty more.

BOZ.

      30th November, 1837.

      SONG OF THE MONTH. No. VII

July, 1837BEING A BAPTISMAL CHAUNT FOR THE BIRTH OF OUR SECOND VOLUME, AS SUNG (IN CHARACTER) BY FATHER PROUT(Tune "The groves of Blarney.")"Ille ego qui quondam," &c. &c. —ÆneidI

      In the month of Janus,

      When Boz to gain us,

      Quite "miscellaneous,"

      Flashed his wit so keen,

      One, (Prout they call him,)

      In style most solemn,

      Led off the volume

      Of his magazine.

II

      Though Maga, 'mongst her

      Bright set of youngsters,

      Had many songsters

      For her opening tome;

      Yet she would rather

      Invite "the Father,"

      And an indulgence gather

      From the Pope of Rome.

III

      And, such a beauty

      From head to shoe-tie,

      Without dispute we

      Found her first boy,

      That she detarmined,

      There's such a charm in 't,

      The Father's sarmint

      She'd again employ.

IV

      While other children

      Are quite bewilderin',

      'Tis joy that fill'd her in

      This bantling; 'cause

      What eye but glistens,

      And what ear but listens,

      When the clargy christens

      A babe of Boz?

V

      I've got a scruple

      That this young pupil

      Surprised its parent

      Ere her time was sped;

      Else I'm unwary,

      Or, 'tis she's a fairy,

      For in January

      She was brought to bed.

VI

      This infant may be

      A six months' baby,

      But may his cradle

      Be blest! say I;

      And luck defend him!

      And joy attend him!

      Since we can't mend him,

      Born in July.

VII

      He's no abortion,

      But born to fortune,

      And most opportune,

      Though before his time;

      Him, Muse, O! nourish,

      And make him flourish

      Quite Tommy-Moorish

      Both in prose and rhyme!

VIII

      I remember, also,

      That this month they call so,

      From Roman Julius

      The "Cæsarian" styled;

      Who was no gosling,

      But, like this Boz-ling,

      From birth a dazzling

      And precocious child!

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

      OLIVER TWIST;

OR, THE PARISH BOY'S PROGRESSBY BOZILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK

      CHAPTER THE NINTH

CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS

      It was late next morning when Oliver awoke from a sound, long sleep. There was nobody in the room beside, but the old Jew, who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round with an iron spoon. He would stop every now and then to listen when there was the least noise below; and, when he had satisfied himself, he would go on whistling and stirring again, as before.

      Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughly awake. There is a drowsy, heavy state, between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such times, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the irksome restraint of its corporeal associate.

      Oliver was precisely in the condition I have described. He saw the Jew with his half-closed eyes, heard his low whistling, and recognised the sound of the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides; and yet the self-same senses were mentally engaged at the same time, in busy action with almost everybody he had ever known.

      When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob, and, standing in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes as if he did not well know how to employ himself, turned round and looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all appearance asleep.

      After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to the door, which he fastened; he then drew forth, as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap in the floor, a small box, which he placed carefully on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down, and took from it a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with diamonds.

      "Aha!" said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting every feature with a hideous grin. "Clever dogs! clever dogs! Staunch to the last! Never told the old parson where they were; never peached upon old Fagin. And why should they? It wouldn't have loosened the knot, or kept the drop up a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! fine fellows!"

      With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the Jew once more deposited

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