o dread of the dark now, and vaguely and gradually
there arises the first dim consciousness of the deep spiritual want
within him--the first awakened desire of the finite soul to see and find
the Infinite Father and claim his protection. Fragments of childish
hymns, parts of simple prayers, such poor and scattered crumbs of
spiritual instruction as he has gleaned here and there somehow, and on
which the infant soul has been but meagrely fed, crowd in upon him. Then
come wondering thoughts of that great good Being, that strange,
unfathomable mystery, whose name is God, Who lives up in the blue
somewhere, and yet is everywhere. This problem of Omnipresence he has
pondered and pondered over, and reasoned upon, in his childish fashion,
but now it dawns with a newer and clearer light on Harry's mind. God is
everywhere. To his awakened spiritual perception this holy, mysterious,
and invisible presence seems pervading the sky, the air, the earth,
filling and enfolding all things. Night after night, as he had lain
there sobbing and crying and thought himself all alone in the darkness,
this great good God had been with him all the time, and he had never
known it, never felt it until now; and, overwhelmed by the mighty
thought, powerfully felt, though imperfectly comprehended, awestruck
Harry, tremulous with reverence, obedient to some childish fancy that
the name of father is not holy and reverent enough for such a Being,
folds his tiny hands, earnestly praying:

'Our Grandfather which art in heaven, stay near poor Harry in the dark,
and keep the bears away!'

Is it faith or fancy, that soft, gentle, summery atmosphere that fills
the room, and makes the little, lonely heart thrill as with the pleasant
consciousness of a loving presence? It is real to Harry, with his
child's undoubting faith. Stretching forth his rounded arms, and
clasping the dark, impalpable air in a joyous embrace, he nestles
closely to the wet pillow as if it were a loving bosom, and falls asleep
with a smile upon his lip. A childhood robbed of childish joys and
pleasures, the little, insignificant trifles which form its sum of
happiness, denied the sympathetic love and tenderness which is the life
of little hearts, deprived of the pleasures suited to its state, yet too
immature to turn within itself for comfort in its need, its life without
and within a dull, joyless, dreary blank--such was poor Harry's, for a
shadow dark and terrible rested on his baby hea