TIM'S STORY. 69 



grew 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, because they were angels, would forgive 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 I 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 get- 

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

 grandfather'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 grandfather 

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

 highly respected my name and moniment; but Tim, thou 



