sions, the fanciful imagination of overwrought brains. Now, however, it was different. He had seen with his own eyes that form bending over the bunk, surrounded by a halo of no earthly light. Was it the child’s mother? But perhaps it was an angel! At once there flashed into his mind the words of the Master over which he had often meditated.
“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones, for I say unto you that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.”
Little children, then, had angel guardians, so, perhaps, he had unwittingly surprised one this night in its ministry of love. Hugo was deeply impressed. A feeling such as he had not known for years stole into his heart. The room seemed suddenly transfigured. It was no longer a humble abode, but the dwelling-place of a celestial messenger. And the child was the cause of it all. For its sake the courts of heaven had been stirred, and swifter than light an angel had winged its way to that lone shack in the heart of the northern wilderness. It may have been hovering around that cabin near the river at the time of the tragedy. What part had it taken in protecting the child? It was wonderful, and Hugo’s heart beat fast as these thoughts swept through his mind. Had the angel guided his steps to that smokeless cabin? He recalled how he had been on the point of taking another route that morning, but had suddenly changed his mind and gone to the river instead. Why he did so he could not tell, as he had never done the like before. But now he understood. It was the angel which had altered his course!
Hugo’s mind dwelt continually upon this as he stirred up the fire and prepared his breakfast. He made
