the chariots fighting on his side. I wish we could see the angel hosts fighting for us. I do so wish that we had appearances of that kind nowadays: it would make faith so much easier and life altogether so much more beautiful.”
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“But it would not be in accordance with God’s teaching in these later times. Such assistance to faith as the appearance of saints and angels would not be at all in accordance with our modern religious thought, and I am sure that the Almighty would not permit it,” said Mrs. Veale.
“I am not so sure of that,” retorted Mrs. Batterby. “I think that visions of angels are granted to-day to those that have eyes to see them, just as they were in Old Testament times.”
“Oh! Mrs. Batterby,” exclaimed Matilda in excitement, “do you really believe that?”
“I do. But I don’t believe that the angels appear as you would expect them, Matilda—all got up in harps and crowns and flaming swords. I believe that when they come nowadays they look so commonplace and what you might call ordinary-looking, that only those folks that have the eye of faith can perceive them at all. They can see them all right, mind you! But they can’t recognise them as the angels of God.”
“How I should like to see somebody who had actually seen an angel!” sighed Miss Skipworth.
“Did you ever come across any one who had enjoyed such an experience, Mrs. Batterby?” asked Mrs. Veale in a sceptical tone.
“Yes, I did, Mrs. Veale—that is, if you can say that you ever came across yourself.”
“Oh, how interesting!—how very interesting!” cried Miss Skipworth. “But you don’t look at all the sort of person that would see angels and spirits.”
Mrs. Batterby took the last remark as a compliment; as indeed it was intended. “That’s just my point, Matilda. The real angels don’t
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