The curé placed Angelo in the class of children, whom he instructed every evening in the sacred doctrines and practice of religion. He was never weary of hearing about God and Jesus Christ, and the angels; and about heaven, where the angels dwell in His presence, holy and perfect for ever; and about the holy men who had lived upon earth, and who had loved God before all things. Angelo desired with all his heart that he might be like them. But the great joy of his life was, when he was taken to chapel for the first time. The sound of the organ seemed more beautiful than even the bells; and the solemn yet joyful singing of the congregation made him think that he must be really in the heaven of which he had heard. He wished that he too might join in these heavenly sounds, and then he thought he should desire to do nothing else all his days.

After he left the chapel, Angelo wandered away into the fields by himself; he wanted to be alone. He lay down upon the grass, under the shadow of a rock, beside the waterfall that was in the valley beyond the curé's fields. His heart was

filled with new, strange thoughts; everything he saw looked quite different to what it had ever done before the grass, and the rocks, and the singing-birds, seemed to have a meaning. He lay quite still, not frightened, but awe-struck, as he thought that it was God Himself who had made all these things-they were really and actually "the work of His hands." He had never thought of this before; but now he looked at all the objects around him with awe and reverence, and wondered if they would ever speak to him and tell him about God. He lay in the same spot without stirring, pondering these things in his mind. He was at last aroused by the sound of voices calling his name; and when he looked up, he saw the curé, who, alarmed at his absence, had come himself to look for him.

My child," said he, "where have you been? I have sent in all directions to look for you. I feared you had met with some accident."

"I have been here all the time. I did not know it was so late. Has Madame Molé wanted me?"

No; but she has been anxious about you, and supper is ready."

The table was laid for supper when they arrived, and a bright fire was burning in the kitchen, which was very pleasant, for the evenings were cold. Angelo had never thought of food, although he had not eaten since breakfast. Madame Molé had made a cake, and it was not until he began to eat that he discovered how hungry he was.

Madame Molé watched the disappearance of her cake with great satisfaction. "You find it good, do you, little one?" asked she, laughing. "Ah, yes! and you are good too. How came

you to think of it?"

"Well, I do not just know. I wished to give you a treat. But what have you been doing with yourself all day?"

"I have been out by the waterfall beyond the fields. I did not know how time went on."

Angelo could not have spoken to any one of the thoughts that had been in his heart all day, and he hoped Madame Molé would not ask him.

any questions; but Madame Molé was inquisitive. She liked always to know everything; and no one could ever tell her all she wanted to hear about a thing. She began to ask Angelo how it had happened that he forgot dinner time, and what else he could be thinking about.

Angelo was silent, and looked distressed. The curé, who was watching him, came to his assistance, and said—“It is all quite right. The child has my blessing; but I do not wish him to be questioned."

Angelo felt very grateful, and wondered how the curé came to understand his feelings so well.

Madame Molé tossed her head, and began to make a clatter with the supper things; and Angelo got up to help; for he feared she was vexed.

When he went to bed that night, the curé laid his hands upon his head and said-"God bless you, my child; and when He gives you good thoughts, as He has done this day, keep them in silence, for talking hinders much good."

After he was in bed, Angelo began to think what there was he could do to shew his affection

for Madame Molé; but he fell asleep in the midst. The thought, however, was always in his heart, and came out, without his being aware, in everything he did.

The curé was accustomed to allow the elder children of the village, as a great privilege, to take it by turns to sweep the chapel, trim the lamps, and do all that was needful for the service of the sanctuary. To Angelo's unspeakable delight, he was allowed to join them, although he was by far the youngest amongst them.

As the winter came on, and there was less to do out of doors, the curé taught him to read and write. He took up his old habit of carving objects in wood. He made a box for Madame Molé, carved all over with shapes of his own devices. Madame Molé was extremely proud of her box, and even the curé admired it so much, that Angelo wondered whether he would ever be able to carve anything that would be worth placing in the chapel.

Angelo was now a very happy child, but very quiet. He did not care for play, like other chil