t is extraordinary, without minding whether it
is good or bad. She misses the delicate and lovely--I wished they would
give us a theme to write about her. I should like to abuse her well."

"It would make a very good theme, in a new line," said Norman; "but I
don't give into it, altogether. It is the hope and the thought of fame,
that has made men great, from first to last. It is in every one that
is not good for nothing, and always will be! The moving spirit of man's
greatness!"

"I'm not sure," said Ethel; "I think looking for fame is like wanting
a reward at once. I had rather people forgot themselves. Do you think
Arnold von Winkelried thought about fame when he threw himself on the
spears?"

"He got it," said Norman.

"Yes; he got it for the good of other people, not to please himself.
Fame does those that admire it good, not those that win it."

"But!" said Norman, and both were silent for some short interval, as
they left the last buildings of the town, and began to mount a steep
hill. Presently Norman slackened his pace, and driving his stick
vehemently against a stone, exclaimed, "It is no use talking, Ethel, it
is all a fight and a race. One is always to try to be foremost. That's
the spirit of the thing--that's what the great, from first to last, have
struggled, and fought, and lived, and died for."

"I know it is a battle, I know it is a race. The Bible says so," replied
Ethel; "but is not there the difference, that here all may win--not
only one? One may do one's best, not care whether one is first or last.
That's what our reading to-day said."

"That was against trumpery vanity--false elevation--not what one has
earned for oneself, but getting into other people's places that one
never deserved. That every one despises!"

"Of course! That they do. I say, Norman, didn't you mean Harvey
Anderson?"

Instead of answering, Norman exclaimed, "It is pretension that is
hateful--true excelling is what one's life is for. No, no, I'll never be
beat, Ethel--I never have been beat by any one, except by you, when you
take pains," he added, looking exultingly at his sister, "and I never
will be."

"Oh, Norman!"

"I mean, of course, while I have senses. I would not be like Richard for
all the world."

"Oh, no, no, poor Richard!"

"He is an excellent fellow in everything else," said Norman; "I could
sometimes wish I was more like him--but how he can be so amazingly slow,
I can't imagine. That examination p