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Dickens, Charles

"Master Humphreys Clock"

They don't believe it quite, - there
may be some truth in it, but it is exaggerated, of course. So,
each of these thousand worlds goes on, intent upon itself, until
night comes again, - first with its lights and pleasures, and its
cheerful streets; then with its guilt and darkness.
Heart of London, there is a moral in thy every stroke! as I look on
at thy indomitable working, which neither death, nor press of life,
nor grief, nor gladness out of doors will influence one jot, I seem
to hear a voice within thee which sinks into my heart, bidding me,
as I elbow my way among the crowd, have some thought for the
meanest wretch that passes, and, being a man, to turn away with
scorn and pride from none that bear the human shape.
I am by no means sure that I might not have been tempted to enlarge
upon the subject, had not the papers that lay before me on the
table been a silent reproach for even this digression. I took them
up again when I had got thus far, and seriously prepared to read.
The handwriting was strange to me, for the manuscript had been
fairly copied. As it is against our rules, in such a case, to
inquire into the authorship until the reading is concluded, I could
only glance at the different faces round me, in search of some
expression which should betray the writer.


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