48 THE LONE ONE. 



his board, which did not witness very highly for the nicety of 

 her conscience. But hard as was the impost harder, too, 

 than poor Tim knew for he contrived for some time to 

 defray it out of his own earnings, without having to lay an 

 abstracting hand upon his little legacy in the " Tomkins' 

 Tomb," which it was his pride as well as prudence to keep as 

 long as possible untouched. 



For some years he had got occasional employment in tailor- 

 ing ; and now that he had no longer to attend upon his 

 helpless old relative, he stuck closer than ever to his sickly 

 occupation. 



It was early spring-time when old Tomkins' died ; but it 

 was only from the window of the little garret where he sat and 

 plied his needle that Timothy could breathe the sweet morning 

 air, or listen to the love-song of the birds. From this window, 

 however, which looked towards the church, he could distinguish 

 the Tomkins' Tomb as it towered above its fellows ; and his 

 eye, thus guided, could rest exactly on the spot adjacent, 

 where lay the three graves of those to whom he (who had now 

 none to love him) had once been dear. And to this spot, when 

 evening came and released him from his sedentary task, did 

 he constantly repair ; and while other youths of his own age, 

 strong, and healthful, and hopeful, congregated to play at 

 cricket on the common, or repaired, by twos and threes, to fish 

 in the stream, or to shoot rooks in the tall elm-trees near it, 

 poor Tim was to be seen climbing slowly and painfully up the 



