HIGHER AND HIGHER.

"COME, Frank, my boy, be smart, and put this basket of apples in a safe place on the top of the vegetables," said farmer Armstrong to his youngest son. "Look, the sun is already shining into Lucy's window, and 'tis no small matter to see it so high on an autumn morning before we have started for market. But the fact is, Frank," he added in a lower voice," William is not himself to-day, for, with all his love of the learning, leaving home is leaving home after all."

"So it is, father; and if ever there was a boy loved home, and always had a ready hand to work, that every one might be comfortable, 'twas Will," said Frank, who was glad to say a word in praise of his brother.

"Yes, boy, and I guess the work will fall pretty heavily on you while he is away learning all those fine things at the great school."

William's thoughts were busier than his hands, and it was unusual for him even to seem an idler. But as he leaned there in silence, half unwilling to harness the patient creature that was to carry him away from home, his memory ran back over the scenes of other days, and he scarcely noticed the fixed gaze of the house-dog, as he looked up in his face. The day had come at length to which he had looked forward, the day for which he had toiled at books early and late, so that, without neglecting his share of work, he might be able to gather that learning without which he felt sure he could not become a learned man; for a learned man William had made up his mind to become, and to fulfil the words of the old master of the village

school, that Will Armstrong would be heard of in the world. But that our readers may know what it was that made him so very thoughtful that morning, we must ask them to step with us inside the white walls of that Irish home, that they may grow familiar with all the family who live there.

Besides William and Frank, Matty and Kate, farmer Armstrong had another child. It was Lucy, who had been afflicted for more than twelve years; for she had fallen when a child from a high chair in the kitchen, and was so much hurt as never to be able to walk again. But, though almost always kept to her room, she was one of the most useful persons in the house, and it seemed as if God, having early drawn her heart by his love, left her there to teach lessons of love and patience to others. That sick-room was the bright spot in that bright little cottage; it was there the mother went when, worn out with the day's labour, she wanted a moment's quiet; it was there the children ran when they had got into trouble, for Lucy was sure to suggest some cure; it was there the whole family gathered in the still sabbath evening, to tell poor Lucy what they could of the minister's sermon, or perhaps to hear from her what the Bible had been saying to her heart about that sabbath in heaven whose rest shall never be broken by a Monday morning. For Lucy was like a bird on bended wing, just ready to fly away; and it was the idea of parting from her that filled William's eye with tears and his mind with such busy thoughts.

On the evening before, just when twilight was fading into night, William had stolen into Lucy's room

to say good-bye, that he might not disturb her in the morning. "Oh, Will, how glad I am you spared time to come up!" said Lucy, as her thin hand was grasped by the strong rough fingers of her brother. "Of course I found time," said William, trying to laugh off his deeper feelings, "because I was sure my little sister would like to give me a scolding before I went away, about seeking things too high; but see, Lucy, I cannot stay here any longer-my heart is panting for learning, that I may rise up, until I become a great man."

“A scolding, Will? no, indeed, I do not think you half aspiring enough. Perhaps I too am trying to rise up-up. Brother, dear," she added, pressing his hand to her lips, "you are going from your earthly home, and I am going to my heavenly home, and shall soon be there: let us both seek that, whether present or absent, we may be accepted of Jesus, who died to save us. Let your aim in everything you do be to please God, and then you cannot work too hard ; but remember, there is one work which must come before every other, or they will be valueless: This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.'"

“Oh, you know I am a rough lad, Lucy, and will never be so good as you; but now I must say good-bye till I shall come home to show you my college-cap and gown, with all my prizes." "And if you do not find Lucy here," said the pale girl, drawing her brother so close that his cheek almost touched her pillow, "you will try to come up after her, and remember that she never got there because she was good, but because Jesus had mercy on her, a poor sinful girl, and gave her early grace."

Now our readers know what William was thinking about while Frank and his father were packing the market cart.

At length everything was ready. The last advice was given by the farmer, the last motherly counsel by his wife, the last good-bye to every person and everything, and the party set off.

When the market town was reached, and the vegetables safely handed over to the green-grocer who always took the farmer's entire stock, the two youths went to the railway station, and Frank had seen William and his two carpet-bags well settled in a secondclass carriage while giving him sundry bits of advice about taking care of himself, before the shrill whistle of departure made him express more by that hasty grasp of the hand than words could, and turn aside to wipe away the rising tear which filled his eye as he watched the train, whose path was soon marked only by the white cloud of steam which floated behind.

Long before Frank had finished his account of the day's doings to a circle of listeners by the fireside that evening, William had reached his journey's end, a hundred and fifty miles away from home. How strange he felt in that great Irish city! how lonely amid the busy throng of people that pressed along the streets without a glance at the stranger who had arrived among them! After some trouble William found a lodging. It was a small room at the top of several flights of stairs, where an uncurtained bed, a broken chair and table, and a smaller looking-glass, with a little bookshelf hanging against the wall, formed the chief furniture.

But if the room did not quite suit William's taste, the price suited his purse, which was a great matter; for he had resolved that his expenses should be as small as the greatest care could make them, in order not to press heavily on the family at home. And when sleep came, to draw a curtain over the business of that day, William dreamt again the dream of his childhood, that he was a traveller in Africa, seeing strange places, speaking strange tongues, and making great discoveries, until he was able to fill up those blank spaces on the map on which he had so often looked. Dreaming gave place to doing, next morning, and before night William had passed the entrance examination at college, and had a right to wear the much-longed-for cap and gown which he had promised to show Lucy on his return. Had he not already become great ? And William, delighted with his own success, worshipped, not God, but self. The hum of praise drowned the whispers of conscience and the gentle pleading of his sister Lucy. He wished to stand high in the world. He must yet learn to aim higher.

The winter passed slowly on, with little to vary the round of William's studies, except the arrival, now and then, of a welcome letter from home, bearing many a message of love to the poor student. To prepare for his classes took up so much of his time that he even denied himself necessary sleep; and the cold hours of a winter's night often found him at his books, until, when pained eyeballs and aching brain could work no more, he lay down tired and prayerless.

One day in early spring William was absent from his class: another and another passed, but he did not