The longer Toby lived the less likely was it for one so ardently imaginative by constitution, to sink into the mere matter-of-fact quietude of thought that characterised the majority of his neighbours. On the contrary, as he grew older, his brain became more and more prolific of imaginations; but, happily, they were increasingly of a more pleasing nature as he increased in years. In spite of all his life-long dreams and fancies, and in spite of straitness in his means of living, Toby was a happy old man; for, with all the startling activity of his imagination, Toby had never corrupted his bodily vigour by a single act of intemperance. When Joe returned to bury his aged foster-mother, Toby walked, by the help of two sticks, to the grave-side, declaring that he saw two lovely angels walking before the coffin, all the way from the dame's door, and he knew they would come for him next. Whether the yearning of his desire and imagination, or the great effort he made to attend the funeral, most assisted to hasten his end, cannot be said,--but he died the very next day,--with a heaven of smiles on his aged face,--and with the words "heaven" and "angels" on his tongue. THE END. LONDON: Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, New-Street Square.