rather not say whether I consider it quite likely that a boy of this birth and nurture would fly at a boy much bigger than himself in vindication of the fair fame of a mother whom he had never known, or would freely risk his life to warn a sleeping household that they were being robbed, or would, on all occasions, exhibit the most excellent manners and morals, and a delicacy of feeling that is quite dainty.  But this is the essence of the book.  To show purity and goodness of disposition as self-sufficient in themselves to resist all adverse influences, is Dickens’ main object.  Take Oliver’s sweet uncontaminated character away, and the story crumbles to pieces.  With mere improbabilities of plot, I have no quarrel.  Of course it is not likely that the boy, on the occasion of his first escape from the thieves, should be rescued by his father’s oldest friend, and, on the second occasion, come across his aunt.  But such coincidences must be accepted in any story; they violate no truth of character.  I am afraid I can’t say as much of Master Oliver’s graces and virtues.

With this reservation, however, how much there is in the book to which unstinted admiration can be given!  As “Pickwick” first fully exhibited the humorous side of Dickens’ genius, so “Oliver Twist” first fully exhibited its tragic side;—­the pathetic side was to come somewhat later.  The scenes at the workhouse; at the thieves’ dens in London; the burglary; the murder of poor Nancy; the escape and death of the horror-haunted Sikes,—­all are painted with a master’s hand.  And the book, like its predecessor, and like those that were to follow, contains characters that have passed into common knowledge as types,—­characters of the keenest individuality, and that yet seem in themselves to sum up a whole class.  Such are Bill Sikes, whose ruffianism has an almost epic grandeur; and black-hearted Fagin, the Jew, receiver of stolen goods and trainer of youth in the way they should not go; and Master Dawkins, the Artful Dodger.  Such, too, is Mr. Bumble, greatest and most unhappy of beadles.

Comedy had predominated in “Pickwick,” tragedy in “Oliver Twist.”  The more complete fusion of the two was effected in “Nicholas Nickleby.”  But as the mighty actor Garrick, in the well-known picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, is drawn towards the more mirthful of the two sisters, so, here again, I think that comedy decidedly bears away the palm,—­though tragedy is not beaten altogether without a struggle either.  Here is the story as it unfolds itself.  The two heroes are Ralph Nickleby and his nephew Nicholas.  They stand forth, almost from the beginning, as antagonists, in battle array the one against the other; and the story is, in the main, a history of the campaigns between them—­cunning and greed being mustered on the one side, and young, generous courage on the other.  At first Nicholas believes in his uncle, who promises to befriend Nicholas’s mother and sister, and obtains for Nicholas himself a situation