THE OLD CLOCK IN THE NEW HOME.
A CLOCK that had been handed down from generation to generation and brought from the old country homestead to a new city home, as it was being wound up one day, said, impatiently:
“I have been running for a hundred years. Let me rest now. Are not your fathers, whom I served so long, at rest?”
“It shall be as you say,” replied its master, laying aside the key and shutting up the glass door that enclosed its tarnished metal face.
In a few hours the old clock was silent. Its great leaden weights hung suspended near the floor; its broad old-fashioned hands ceased to move, and its pendulum, no longer flashing from right to left through the little round pane of glass in front of it, hung motionless and still.