"Oh!" cried I, half starting up, but obliged to fall back again directly, "could a Man without a Soul make a Watch?"
"Well," quod he, after a Pause, "there you pose me. But all, all is dark."
"Tomkins!" cried I, "you make my Head ache ready to split, and my Eyeballs seem too big for mine Eye-lids to shut over them. So hot, too, as they are! I cannot argue with you. But, oh, Tomkins! if all is dark, remember that 'the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!'"
"So this Book sayeth," rejoined he, thoughtfully.
"Well," said I, sighing, "I shall soon know."
"Know? why?"
"Why, because, Tomkins, I think I am very likely dying ... and then, if I have no Soul, where do you think I shall go to?"
"I think," quod he, drawing his Hand across his Eyes, "that you will go to Heaven ... if there be such a Place."
"I think so too, and feel sure of it," said I.
"What makes you feel sure?" quod he.