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Updated: May 21, 2025
Might not as well some scientific member of an insect tribe of ephemera, whom ancestral tradition, confirmed by personal experience, had assured that an eight-day clock had already gone on for six days, pronounce it to be a law of the clock's nature that it should go on for ever without being again wound up?
The Mark Boat's vertical spindle of light lies down to eastward, setting in the face of the following stars. We seem the only thing at rest under all the heavens; floating at ease till the earth's revolution shall turn up our landing-towers. And minute by minute our silent clock gives us a sixteen-second mile. "Some fine night," says Tim, "we'll be even with that clock's Master."
Was it to have a companion to cheer and solace it on its far journey to the great beyond? How long we waited Bob's awakening I could not tell. The clock's hands said an hour; it seemed to me an age. At last his magnificent physique, his unpoisoned blood and splendid brain pulled him through to his new world of mind and heart torture. His eyelids lifted.
Harold was repeating softly, as the upspringing flames filled the room with, their light and rested lovingly upon the young faces upturned to here: "Each night when three bells strike the hour Up in the old clock's lofty tower, A flashing beam, a darting ray Their message of good faith convey. "Those wavering, clear, electric beams, Who'll guess how much their message means?
A good omen surely that not one of them fell foul of the death that lurks in that ugly, horned devil not dead itself, but very much alive, for it answered a shot from one of our three pounders with the dull roar and spitting of fire and smoke bred for our benefit by the kindly German Kultur. I hope I may sleep to-night. I think so. If not, my wakefulness will wish the clock's hand forward.
Berk-ley! Berk-ley!" How it had crept into her consciousness she could not understand; she lay still, listening, but the tic-toc seemed to fit the syllables of his name; and when, annoyed, she made a half disdainful mental attempt to substitute other syllables, it proved too much of an effort, and back into its sober, swinging rhythm slipped the old clock's tic-toe, in wearisome, meaningless repetition: "Berk-ley!
"Of course, it's a mistake or else that big clock's wrong," declared Nan Sherwood. "No fear of a railroad clock's being wrong," said her chum, grumpily. "That old time table was wrong. They're always wrong. No more sense to a time table than there is to a syncopated song.
By and by certain familiar whoops and hullohs announced that the enemy was coming. "They hevn't coomed yet, hev they?" we heard the sexton's son say, as he peeped over at our pond. "Noa," was the reply. "It's not gone one yet." "It's gone one by t' church. I yeard it as we was coming up t' lane." "T' church clock's always hafe-an-hour fasst, thee knows." "It isn't!" "It is."
At last in sheer desperation he referred to the loudness of the clock's ticking. "It seems to me to be the same as usual," said the girl, with a slight emphasis on the pronoun. The clock ticked on undisturbed. Upstairs the amiable captain did his part nobly. Drawers opened and closed noisily; doors shut and lids of boxes slammed.
'My wishes, sir, replied Mr Tapley, whose mind would appear from the context to have been running on the matrimonial service, 'is to love, honour, and obey. The clock's a-striking now, sir. 'Come in! 'Thank'ee, sir, rejoined Mr Tapley, 'what could I do for you first, sir? 'You gave my message to Martin? said the old man, bending his eyes upon him.
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