"And the stately ships go on, To their haven under the hill, But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand! And the sound of a voice that is still. "Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, oh sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead, Will never come back to me." He mounted the rock once more, leaned against the flagstaff, and looked out dreamily upon the wide expanse of ocean, emblem to him of the untried world beyond. Then he turned to look upon the spot where he had first seen Madeline in all her childish grace. It had been a sweet dream with which to commence his young life--a peep into a home of elegance and refinement--a year's communion with a fresh young spirit, so free, so wild, so guileless. Some pleasant thoughts stirred in the soul of the youth, and caused a smile to flit across his face, as he felt that perhaps he might have awakened in that bright child some incipient longings after a better life. Then his thoughts turned to the reality; the hard, stern reality, the battle of life, so soon to commence. "These bright things are not for me," sighed Roland; "they might enervate my character. God knows that it will be better schooled in the path which strikes the steel within. What a precious talisman my dear mother has left me, 'Looking aloft!' upward where I see the works of the Creator, the smiles of God; upward, where I see the path trodden by all the good and great of the earth; you shall never be ashamed of your son, mother." The word "mother" was spoken audibly, the holy name stirred up the depths of Roland's soul, and he wept aloud. It was but a moment of indulgence; for, taking up his carpet-bag, he commenced his journey on foot. And whither? like faithful Abraham, he went out, not knowing whither he went. He had heard of a neighboring college about one hundred and fifty miles off, where the President, himself a self-made man, had sympathy with struggling aspirants. "I can but try," thought the youth; "I'll go trusting, and I may succeed." All day long he journeyed with a springing, elastic step, for hope was strong within him. He stopped to take his meals, and to read a verse or two in his mother's precious book of the promises. When evening approached, Roland began to cast about for a night's lodging. He did not want to spend his money, he had so little; that he must keep for his books. But what to do? He could not sleep out upon the ground, it was too cold. Not far off, he perceived a neat-looking farm-house. Two or three children were playing about in the front lawn; the mother, a pleasant looking woman, came to the door, and with such a kind, cheerful voice called in her little ones to tea, that Roland felt she will not refuse me a place in her barn. I can but ask. He walked directly up to the front door with a firm, manly step, and knocked. The mistress of the house appeared.