Walking rapidly down the deserted street, without
venturing a look back, he passes many an endeared object; the old white
church, where he has been accustomed to worship, Sunday after Sunday,
for many years, holds high its head in the bright moonlight, and the
hands of the old town clock upon the tower, seem to beckon him to
return. He falters; it would seem as if the very doors of the church
would open and receive him. Throwing down the bundle, he kneels upon the
door-stone, and breathes a prayer to heaven, to bless those who will
enter therein when he shall be gone. Pressing his lips to the cold stone
where _they_ have trod, he rises, when lo! standing by his side, with
the package of clothes in his mouth, is the old house dog, Nep; and as
the watch in the tower cries, "past eleven o'clock, and all is well," he
looks wistfully into his master's face, as if he would ask, is all well?
What is to be done? in less than half an hour the ship will be towed
out into the stream; there is no time to be lost, but the dog will not
think of leaving his master, for his experience of years tells him it is
a new thing for the boy to be wandering from home at this unseasonable
hour.
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