The first novel I shall take is “Oliver Twist” because it--despite the charm of the story--is almost unintelligible to the ordinary reader, where it deals with the conditions of the lives of the very poor and of the criminal classes. I need hardly remind you of the details. There is the poor little boy born and bred in the workhouse under Mr. Bumble the beadle, his being apprenticed, his escape to London, and his introduction to the thieves’ school kept by the Jew Fagin, the devilish plot to make him a criminal, his escape, and his restoration to his family. A character like Fagin’s would be impossible in London at the present day. There may be equally dangerous criminals; but he was protected by a system which is now happily entirely obsolete. His infamous trade was to train up criminals whom he finally handed over to the arm of the law. “I say,” said the other (the landlord of the Cripple), “what a time this would be for a sell. I’ve got Phil Barker here: so drunk that a boy might take him.” “Aha! but it’s not Phil Barker’s time,” said the Jew, looking up. “Phil has something more to do, before we can afford to part with him, so go back to the company, my dear, and tell them to lead merry lives--_while they last_, ha! ha! ha!” And again: “Change it,” exclaimed the Jew (to Nancy).... “I will change it! Listen to me, you drab. Listen to me, who with six words can strangle Sykes, as surely as if I had his bull’s throat between my fingers now. If he comes back and leaves that boy behind him,--if he gets off free, and dead or alive fails to restore him to me--murder him yourself if you would have him escape Jack Ketch: and do it the moment he sets foot in this room, or mind me, it will be too late!” These were no empty boasts. Fagin had literally the lives of all who thieved for him in his pocket, and this is the motive of the plot of the story. The object of Fagin is to get Oliver Twist to commit some crime and thus be able to hand him over to the police as soon as it was convenient to do so. Let us see how this could be managed. There were practically no police. London was protected by a horse patrol in the suburbs and a small foot patrol in the streets. Each parish had its own watchman, who might not under any circumstances leave his beat, not even to prevent a felony. The parish constable or headborough was paid a ridiculous wage: in the great parish of Shoreditch he received £4.10.0 ($22.50) a year. Yet it was, what with blackmail and fees, a lucrative office. If the headborough prosecuted, he could get expenses at the rate of $6 a day and more, and he could bring in any other friend who held the same office as a witness--expenses paid.