In the little hamlet of Roskear, an outlying village of Camborne, my father, Joseph Toy, was born. The long, low stone cottage, with small windows and overhanging roof, still stands. A narrow drive runs in from the village street, and a low stone wall separates it from the plain yard in front adorned with here and there a shrub or climbing vine. The house is little changed since the large family of children were sheltered under its eaves and played about the yard, and the dear mother spread the simple food on the white table, and sanded the well-scoured floor. My father was born in April, 1808. He was the son of Robert and Ann Hosking Toy. He was the youngest of eight children: John, Robert, Nicholas, William, James, Joseph, and his sisters Mary Ann (Mrs. Sims), and Nanny (Mrs. Granville). His parents were honest, God-fearing people, training their children to a life of industry and integrity, and early leading them into the ways of piety and obedience. Joseph, being a bright, attractive child, and possessing an affectionate nature, was very naturally the pet and darling of the family. While he was quite young his father died suddenly, and as the elder children were mostly married, the home was broken up, and he, with his widowed mother, was received into the family of his brother John, a man of much energy and ability, who afterwards became captain of the West Seaton mine. In a few years his mother, too, entered into rest, leaving her beloved Joseph to the care of his elder brother, and well did that brother and his estimable wife fulfill their trust. The home was full of love and sunshine, and the most tender affection was lavished upon the young brother. My uncle scarcely ever came home without the inquiry, "Where is the dear boy?" Mrs. Jane Gilbert, my Uncle John's youngest daughter, writes thus of the family. "Their father died when Joseph was a lad, but he was always a great pet with his brothers. I have heard my father tell how when he was going courting Joseph had cried to go with him, and he has taken him many a time. Their mother died when your father was young, and he came to him at our house and continued to live with us until his marriage. So my sisters looked upon him more as a brother than an uncle. I can remember that when the letter came to father announcing your dear mother's death, he wept aloud and said, 'Poor little Joe!' Their mother's maiden name was Ann Davey, and she was born at Nans Nuke Illogan. She was a grand old Christian, a splendid character and handsome. I have always heard her children speak of her with reverence and love. Our grandfather's mother's name was Andrews, and she was born in the parish of Newlyn East."