Above, the glorious sky, so vast, so magnificent! around him, the scenery which no pencil could ever fully paint. Deep ravines, towering peaks of glory, falls of water dashing down the dizzy heights, and beyond! peak piled on peak, stretching as far as eye could reach, a whole amphitheatre of glorious mountains. A voice within answered to the voice around; it was the same which had spoken to him in the days of childhood, when standing in one of his native glens, among the rude mountains of Scotland, he had listened to the story of his martyred ancestors. His soul swelled then, child that he was, with lofty emotions. It swelled now with fuller, deeper majesty, as he listened to the voice of God among these mountains; and on through life, that voice will follow Roland. He took out his little Testament and read, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help." And again, "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people." "Need I look farther?" asked Roland of his soul. "God is here! _My_ God! _My_ Father!"--and, bowing his head, he lifted up the voice of prayer, and here amid these mountain solitudes, made a fresh covenant with the God of his martyred fathers. In this hour of rapt communion, he remembered Effie, his orphan sister, and Madeline, the dear little friend of his early youth. Here, surrounded by these glorious mountains, in this vast solitude, it was easy to imagine the glories of that mountain of the Lord, when his people gathered home once more, should rest in peace; and when in the glories of the latter days, wars and tumults, strife and discord, sin and misery, should forever cease. "Upon the frontier of this shadowy land, We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, stand. What realm lies forward with its happier store Of forests green and deep, Of valleys hushed in sleep, And lakes most peaceful? 'Tis the Land of Evermore. "Very far off its marble cities seem-- Very far off--beyond our sensual dream-- Its woods, unruffled by the wild winds roar: Yet does the turbulent surge Howl on its very verge One moment--and we breathe within the Evermore. "They whom we loved and lost so long ago, Dwell in those cities, far from mortal woe, Hunt those fresh woodlands, where sweet carollings soar. Eternal peace have they: God wipes their tears away: They drink that river of life which flows for Evermore. "Thither we hasten through these regions dim; But lo, the wide wings of the seraphim Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore Our lighted hearts shall know The life of long ago: The sorrow burdened past shall fade for Evermore." There was nothing but the shelter of a rude shed, but so enraptured was our young traveller that he resolved to stay.