ON WARD. CHAPTER I. LOOKING UPWARDS. "Higher, higher, let us climb, Looking up and pressing on, Hast'ning through the days of time, For all thy need The Saviour cares, So onward speed, Thy pains he bears." "Now, Ethie, won't you sing us something?" said Hubert, as seated at the little table, where his own lamp burned, he closed a volume on Nautical Science, which he had been diligently studying. "The clock is striking, so the young ones may shut their books also, and we must have something bright after the past hour of intense silence." "Do, Ethie, do," said Gertrude; but poor Rowland looked up rather despairingly, as he exclaimed, "Oh! I had just got hold of this problem, and now it is vanished quite. It is so troublesome!" "Never mind," said his brother; "it will all come back to-morrow morning. You have been long enough at books now." "That would do if I could master a thing, as easily as you can, but you know I can't; so Rowland took his books under one arm, and Hubert's lamp in his hand, and ascended the stairs to his own little room, which he used to describe as "placed alone upon the housetop." It was a slightly frosty night at the end of October. The youth wrapped his railway-rug round him, and in about twenty minutes the problem was solved. "Now I have done," he said; and he put out the lamp, and opened his skylight window to observe what stars were rising, setting, and culminating. Rowland was of a quiet, plodding disposition. Though not quick in apprehension, he was deep in reflection. His temper was rarely excited by any disturbance; but his feelings seldom expanded to enter into the pursuits of those with whom he associated. His maxim was, "Let people alone;" and his entreaty was, "Let me alone." There was one, however, whom he loved with the strongest affection, in whose soul his own seemed to be enfolded, and that was the gentle, lovely Ethelda; but for others, whether brother, sister, father, or school-fellows, he cared little. Ethie was his idol, and himself filled up the rest of his heart. He had a sense of religion, was upright and honourable, but there was no room for the love of God to possess his soul. He was far from being thoroughly happy; and often wondered why he was so different to his beloved sister. As he gazed at and noticed the stars that night, he almost mechanically began to repeat the stanzas of a baby rhyme, and without thinking of a word he uttered, proceeded to the commencement of the last verse : "As your bright and tiny spark Thought, then, suddenly arrested him. He mused as he repeated each of these lines; and looking once more at their tiny spark, exclaimed,— "Happy, useful stars. Oh! that I were so also." Then shutting the window, he descended slowly to the drawing-room, where Ethelda and Hubert were singing duets. The Only Ethelda observed Rowland enter; and she soon noticed the rather sad expression of his countenance. duet finished, she smiling brightly, turned to her younger brother, "Now, Rowly, what would you like?" "Any thing, Ethie; you know I don't care as long as you sing." "This is a favourite, is it not?" and her clear voice commenced Longfellow's beautiful poem : "The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed, Excelsior! Excelsior!" Everybody likes that song," said the bright-eyed Gertrude; "but I own it puzzles me. because I don't understand it." I do not like 'Excelsior,' "I like you, Gerty, for always allowing what is true," replied Hubert. "We must ask Rowland for the expla nation, since he evidently enjoys it." "The story is simple enough," remarked Rowland, "both beautiful and true; for many are ever striving, and ever disappointed. They wave their Excelsior' banner, but in a little while the snow-wreath gathers round it." And then in an under-tone he added, "I have never unfurled mine yet." "I am not sure of that, Rowly," said Ethelda, who had overheard him. "I have sometimes seen you bear it, but I own you have soon thrown it down." "Without braving the awful avalanche," added Row- land, "A very dangerous one when climbing the mount of human glory, but it is the device which God hath bid us bear as we ascend towards the Heavenly City." "I do not see why we may not hold it, and climb both mountains," remarked Hubert. as well as a good man. higher!'" "I hope to be a great man Whatever I do, it must be 'higher! 66 SO "Goodness is the higher mountain," said Ethelda; you should lose sight of Greatness; or, rather, they are one. Greatness is a volcanic hill when it stands alone; and if we reach its summit, it will open its mouth and swallow us up: but climb Goodness, and true Greatness lies at your feet." "Well, Ethie," replied Hubert, "you seem to stand on the summit. Tell us how we are to attain “Hubert ! "—and the tear filled Ethelda's eye-"I am far, far from reaching there." Oh, Ethie, I did not mean to distress you ! I suppose it is because we are so deep in the valley that we fancied the point you had attained was the height of the mountain." "You are all so metaphorical," said Gertrude, "that I can hardly understand you better than Longfellow; but if this is what you mean, I don't like it at all. Ethelda even thinks she is not good enough, and Hubert is always longing to be greater. We are never to be content and happy, and enjoy what we have, but to be always crying, 'Excelsior! Excelsior!' It may not sound so sentimental, but I do think that Longfellow's boy would have been wiser to have staid in the 'peaceful village' than to have been found halfburied in the snow.' "" Very true of Longfellow's boy; but speaking of ourselves metaphorically, Gerty," replied Ethelda, "if we remain in the peaceful village' we must be overthrown by the avalanche of wrath. 'Excelsior' is the Christian's safety, for it is the command of our King; but He who bids his people' Come up hither,' hath provided the needful |