TIM'S STORY. 69 



easier. Oh ! I had come out a miserable,, forlorn cretur ; but 

 as I lay there I felt altogether changed and happy. I seemed 

 to have got home, and to be along with dear friends,, who, 

 without my telling of them, knowed all my troubles, and, be- 

 cause they were angels, would forgive me all my faults. I heard 

 the folks a-laughing and shouting as they came home from 

 Farmer Jones's haying supper ; but I seemed to feel happier 

 than they ; and when I knowed by the sound of their voices 

 and the clapping of the churchyard gate that they had passed 

 through, I was glad to be left alone agen with them as had 

 once cared for me and were loving of me still. And so I laid 

 resting, how long T can hardly tell, when other things more 

 strange but not so happy came over my mind. May-be I had 

 fell asleep and they were dreams ; but I don't know they 

 were much more liker to reality. I don't remember getting 

 up, yet I seemed to be a-sitting instead of laying on grand- 

 father's grave; and, though it was quite dark, seeing right 

 opposite, as plain as in day-time, the grand old moniment. 

 Then, all of a sudden, I thought the image of Sir Timothy 

 raised itself right on end, and, gliding from, off the top of the 

 tomb, came and sat itself down beside me its cold white face 

 looking into mine. ' Tim, my name-fellow/ said he (for it 

 seemed more liker Sir Timothy hisself than only his image) ; 

 ' Tim,' said he, ' I love thee for the sake of thy grand- 

 father a fine old fellow who did good service to dead men, 

 and highly respected my name and moniment ; but Tim, thou 



