| Display title | Oliver Twist/Source/Chapter 23 |
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| Page ID | 413472 |
| Page content language | en - English |
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| Page creator | GethN7 (talk | contribs) |
| Date of page creation | 22:17, 26 November 2014 |
| Latest editor | Void (talk | contribs) |
| Date of latest edit | 00:05, 27 October 2018 |
| Total number of edits | 3 |
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Description | Content |
Article description: (description)
This attribute controls the content of the description and og:description elements. | The night was bitter cold. The snow lay on the ground, frozen
into a hard thick crust, so that only the heaps that had drifted
into byways and corners were affected by the sharp wind that
howled abroad: which, as if expending increased fury on such
prey as it found, caught it savagely up in clouds, and, whirling
it into a thousand misty eddies, scattered it in air. Bleak,
dark, and piercing cold, it was a night for the well-housed and
fed to draw round the bright fire and thank God they were at
home; and for the homeless, starving wretch to lay him down and
die. Many hunger-worn outcasts close their eyes in our bare
streets, at such times, who, let their crimes have been what they
may, can hardly open them in a more bitter world. |