And thus were all things of the Man made of Money—things of dust and ashes.
The night has passed, and day—lovely summer time—smiles a benison upon the world. The Halcyon, with her sea-pilgrims aboard, lies-to off the western shore. There are two voyagers yet to come. And there—a thing no bigger than a nautilus—a boat comes shooting out; tussling and bounding with the breeze and sea, and now fairly leaping from wave to wave towards the ship, as with the instinct of some creature towards its parent breast. “There they are!” shouts Carraways, and his wife cries and laughs—and Jenny Topps jumps about—and Robert claps his hands—and Old White blesses himself—and Doctor Dodo smiles, and Mrs. Dodo is so happy—and the nine children Dodos—baby at the breast counting for nothing—give a scream and a shout of delight!
The end of the Man of Money.
Another minute, and the boat is alongside. And there are bride and bridegroom,—there is Bessy with such happiness filling her good face, with Basil’s arm around her—and Basil looking proud of his treasure! Another minute, and Bessy is upon the deck in her mother’s arms; and Basil grasps the hand of father Carraways.
Captain Goodbody’s eye—he sees all but says little—glistens at the meeting. The boat’s cast off—all’s right.
“’Bout ship!” cries the Captain. The yards swing round; the canvas fills as with the breath of good spirits. May such await the trusting and courageous hearts our vessel carries—await on them and all who, seeking a new home, sail the mighty deep!
THE END.
LONDON:
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.