That child's eyes and voice, and his expression, which exceeded in
sweetness that of any of the angels I had ever imagined,--that
child could coax a man to do more self-forgetting deeds than the
shortening of his precious sleeping-hours amounted to. In fact, he
was fast divesting me of my rightful sleepiness, so I kissed him
and said:--

"Run to bed, now, dear old fellow, and let uncle go to sleep
again. After breakfast, I'll make you a whistle."

"Oh, will you?" The angel turned into a boy at once. "Yes; now run
along."

"A LOUD whistle--a real loud one?"

"Yes, but not if you don't go right back to bed."

The sound of little footsteps receded as I turned over and closed
my eyes. Speedily the bird-song seemed to grow fainter; my
thoughts dropped to pieces; I seemed to be floating on fleecy
clouds, in company with hundreds of cherubs with Budge's features
and night-drawers--

"Uncle Harry!"

May the Lord forget the prayer I put up just then!

"Uncle Harry!"

"I'll discipline you, my fine little boy," thought I. "Perhaps, if