I was resigned, but with my resignation came a sense of gross injustice. I had toiled all the days of my life for man, and when worn-out and broken, doomed to die in a knacker’s yard! It may be just—man is wiser than I am; but it seemed hard to end one’s days in such a place.
In the midst of my gloom a thought arose which gives me consolation to this moment—I have done my duty. None of my masters, from the first to the last, can accuse me of having shirked my work or shown the least disposition to vice; and there is a companion thought to it which gives me further comfort—I am sure that many of those who knew me, most of them ignorant of my fate, will speak kindly of me when I am gone, and say a good word for poor Blossom.
I have a hope too—a hope which I hold close to my heart—and that is of Rip, dear, noble Rip, roaming over the paddock I know so well, with the gentle stream flowing at its base, and the old water-mill turning in the sunlight, and the song of the lark and the hum of the bee in his ear, and the sweet-scented clover throwing its perfume into his grateful nostrils. As you wander thus, oh, noble Rip, I hope—ah, know—that you will sometimes think of your old friend, who served mankind all his life, and died by the knacker’s hand!
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