off Oliver Twist, in some small trading vessel bound to a good

unhealthy port. This suggested itself as the very best thing

that could possibly be done with him: the probability being, that

the skipper would flog him to death, in a playful mood, some day

after dinner, or would knock his brains out with an iron bar;

both pastimes being, as is pretty generally known, very favourite

and common recreations among gentleman of that class. The more

the case presented itself to the board, in this point of view,