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Image from page 285 of "Master Humphrey's clock" (1840) | by Internet Archive Book Images
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Image from page 285 of "Master Humphrey's clock" (1840)

Identifier: masterhumphreysc02dick

Title: Master Humphrey's clock

Year: 1840 (1840s)

Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Cattermole, George, 1800-1868, ill Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882, ill

Subjects: Gordon Riots, 1780

Publisher: London : Chapman and Hall

Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

 

 

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Text Appearing Before Image:

ding to custom, and put the key in hispocket, went off to bed. He had not left the room in darkness many minutes, when the head againappeared, and Sim Tappertit entered, bearing in his hand a little lamp. What the devil business has he to stop up so late ! muttered Sim,passing into the workshop, and setting it down upon the forge. Heres halfthe night gone already. Theres only one good that has ever come to me, outof this cursed old rusty mechanical trade, and thats this piece of ironmongery,upon my soul! As he spoke, he drew from the right hand, or rather right leg pocket of hissmalls, a clumsy large-sized key, which he inserted cautiously in the lock hismaster had secured, and softly opened the door. That done, he replaced hispiece of secret workmanship in his pocket; and leaving the lamp burning, andclosing the door carefully and without noise, stole out into the street—as littlesuspected by the locksmith in his sound deep sleep, as by Barnaby himself inhis phantom-haunted dreams.

 

Text Appearing After Image:

BARNABY RUDGE. 277 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. Clear of the locksmiths house, Sim Tappertit laid aside his cautiousmanner, and assuming in its stead that of a ruffling, swaggering, roving blade,■who would rather kill a man than otherwise, and eat him too if needful, madethe best of his way along the darkened streets. Half pausing for an instant now and then to smite his pocket and assurehimself of the safety of his master key, he hurried on to Barbican, and turn-ing into one of the narrowest of the narrow streets which diverged from thatcentre, slackened his pace and wiped his heated brow, as if the termination ofhis walk were near at hand. It was not a very choice spot for midnight expeditions, being in truth one ofmore than questionable character, and of an appearance by no means inviting.From the main street he had entered, itself little better than an alley, alow-browed doorway led into a blind court, or yard, profoundly dark, un-paved, and reeking Avith stagnant odours. Into this ill-f

 

 

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