about eight o'clock
If my memory serves me rightly , we have had a good deal of that sort of thing in the preceding pages . I left the ship at Plymouth , and Sam went on in her to London . I satisfied my soul with amazement at the men of war , and the breakwater ; and , having bought a horse , I struck boldly across the moor for Drumston , revisiting on my way many a well-known snipe-ground , and old trout haunt ; and so , on the third morning , I reached Drumston once more , and stabled my horse at a little public-house near the church . It was about eight o'clock on a Tuesday morning ; nevertheless , the church-bell was going , and the door was open as if for prayer . I was a little surprised at this , but having visited the grave where my father and mother lay , and then passed on to the simple headstone which marked the resting place of John Thornton and his wife , I brushed through the docks and nettles , towards the lychgate , in the shadow of which stood the clergyman , a gentlemanly looking young man , talking to a very aged woman in a red cloak . He saluted me courteously , and passed on , talking earnestly and kindly to his aged companion , and so the remarkable couple went into the church , and the bell stopped . I looked around .