For my pipe, it is an old relic of home, a thing of no great worth,
a poor trifle, but sacred to me for her sake.
Thus, since the death of our venerable friend, Jack Redburn and I
have been the sole tenants of the old house; and, day by day, have
lounged together in his favourite walks. Mindful of his
injunctions, we have long been able to speak of him with ease and
cheerfulness, and to remember him as he would be remembered. From
certain allusions which Jack has dropped, to his having been
deserted and cast off in early life, I am inclined to believe that
some passages of his youth may possibly be shadowed out in the
history of Mr. Chester and his son, but seeing that he avoids the
subject, I have not pursued it.
My task is done. The chamber in which we have whiled away so many
hours, not, I hope, without some pleasure and some profit, is
deserted; our happy hour of meeting strikes no more; the chimney-
corner has grown cold; and MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK has stopped for
ever.
End of the Project Gutenberg eText Master Humphrey's Clock
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