CHAPTER II.

POOR little Angelo had not fallen down that deep gap between two rocks, where his bag was found but all through that terrible night he was in the midst of many and great dangers; and if he were preserved in life, it was through the good providence of Him "to whom the darkness and the light are both alike." He guided the steps of Angelo, and took care of him when he had no friend in the world, and was driven out into this dark, wild forest amongst the mountains. Angelo entered the forest in an agony of fear; the trees took all manner of frightful and fantastic shapes in the deepening gloom; there were strange noises, which in daylight would have been unheeded, but which at that hour seemed to be unearthly; the distant rushing

of the river, the sound of great stones and pieces of rock rolling down into the valley beneath, the creaking of the wind amongst the branches of the trees, and, most terrible of all, a dismal sound, that he fancied was the cry of wolves in the distance, but it was only the scream of the owl. All these made his heart sink within him for fear; but he prayed to God to let the angel help him. He put his hand into the bag that held his treasures, and at that moment he stumbled over a fallen tree; the string of his bag broke, and the fall jerked it out of his hand, down the steep place where it was found, and where, if he too had fallen, he could not have escaped with life. But he was guided safely, although he had long since lost his way, and knew not whither he went. At length, worn out with fatigue, cut and bruised by his falls amongst the rocks, he sat down at the foot of a tree; and finding it hollow, he crept into it, and fell asleep. He was awakened the next morning by the sound of a most lovely melody; he had never before heard anything like it; and he thought it must be made by his angel.

Angelo had, in the course of the night, wandered

very far from the village where he had lived with Paul, and had descended the other side of the mountain, where there was another village, on the opposite edge of the forest. He was stiff with cold and fatigue, and did not recollect how he came there; but he arose, and went in the direction whence the sounds appeared to come. In a little while he saw a chapel in a niche of rocks; a number of villagers were coming from the door, one of whom carried a little infant, which had just been christened. They none of them saw Angelo, who was concealed by a rock, and they were going further down into the valley; but the curé, who left the chapel last, came up a winding path, exactly to the spot where Angelo was standing.

"Who are you, my poor little boy, and where do you come from?" he asked, looking at him compassionately; for Angelo had lost both his sabots, his feet were bleeding, and his clothes were torn.

Angelo looked at him, but did not reply.

The curé spoke again, and Angelo began to cry; being worn out for want of food. The curé took him by the hand, and said, "Come along with me,