The girl was not allowed to remain long away, for she was wanted at home. By this time most of the members of the family were out earning their own living; and the house was quiet and desolate without Grace.

When the harvest was over, therefore, and the days were growing short and dark, she returned with many a tale to tell of what she had seen and heard on the mainland, and we may be sure that, on some evenings during the next winter, her reminiscences kept the household from being dull.

Grace was now growing up into womanhood. William Howitt, who saw her afterward, thus describes her:--"She had the sweetest smile I have ever seen in a person of her station and appearance. You perceive that she is a thoroughly good creature, and that under her modest exterior lies a spirit of the most exalted devotion--so entire, that daring is not so much a quality of her nature, as that of the most perfect sympathy with suffering or endangered humanity, swallowing up and annihilating everything like fear or self-consideration."

It will be seen from this description of our heroine, that she was, in a word, a good girl. She was dutiful and loving to her parents, and kindly to all creatures. She could not see suffering without trying to alleviate it; nor could she stay to consider whether or not she was putting her own life in danger when others needed her a.s.sistance. From all that we know of this northern maiden, we conclude that Mr. Howitt was right. It was scarcely daring that prompted the heroic action that made her famous, so much as a habit of feeling the most constant and perfect sympathy with suffering.

It is not difficult to picture this girl on the rugged Farne Rocks, casting her quiet, observant eyes over the wide sea, and praying for the safety of those who were tossing about in ships. We can imagine her, in her own mind, making heroes out of very common men, and rather exaggerating than under-rating the sorrows of humanity. We are sure that no storm-distressed bird ever came to the window of the lighthouse-home for shelter and was denied by Grace, and no shipwrecked sailor, clinging for life to the rocks, would be afraid of other than most merciful treatment from the hands of such a woman. And G.o.d be thanked that there are hundreds of thousands like her, not only along our sh.o.r.es, but in every part of our land--women who fear G.o.d and love the right, and delight in nothing so much as self-abnegation, if only they can serve those who are needy or sad.

Let the girls of England resolve to join their ranks. It is better to be poor and n.o.ble, than rich and worthless--to be the daughter of a lighthouse-keeper, and fill the life with good deeds of diligence and faithfulness, than to be the daughter of an Earl, and of no real good to anybody. But the life of consecration to G.o.d and His service, and for His sake, to all around, is lived only by those who are thoughtful and Christian. Let the young people thus find their joy and strength in prayer, and in earnest resolve that their lives, even if quiet, shall be good, and we will not fear for the future of our world.

"Though fresh within your b.r.e.a.s.t.s th' untroubled springs Of hope make melody where'er ye tread; And o'er your sleep, bright shadows from the wings Of spirits visiting but youth be spread; Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low, Is woman's tenderness--how soon her woe!

"Her lot is on you--silent tears to weep, And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour; And sunless riches, from affection's deep, To pour on broken reeds a wasted shower!

And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship--therefore pray!

"Her lot is on you, to be found untired, Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be rain, Meekly to bear with wrong, and cheer decay, And oh! to love through all things--therefore pray

"And take the thought of this calm vesper time, With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light, On through the dark days, fading from their prime, As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight.

Earth will forsake--oh! happy to have given Th' unbroken heart's first tenderness to heaven!"--Mrs. Hemans

CHAPTER IV.

LIGHTHOUSE HOMES.

"And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light, With strange unearthly splendour in its glare.

"Not one alone: from each projecting cape, And perilous reef, along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim gigantic shape, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

"Like the great giant Christopher, it stands Upon the brink of the tempestuous waves, Wading far out upon the rocks and sands, The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

"And the great ships sail outward, and return, Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells; And ever joyful as they see it burn, They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

"Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same Year after year, through all the silent night, Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame-- Shines on that inextinguishable light."--Longfellow.

No history of Grace Darling would be complete that did not contain some reference to lighthouses; since it was in one of them that she lived, and in a.s.sociation with it that her thrilling deeds were done. The lighthouse is not a modern invention, though modern science and art have brought it to its present state of perfection. The beacon-fire was known to the ancients, and the fire-towers of the Mediterranean were justly celebrated.

The first regular light seems to have been placed at the entrance to the h.e.l.lespont; but of greater notoriety was the large tower on the island of Pharos, off Alexandria, which was so ingeniously constructed that it has been a model for many a modern lighthouse. Some incredible stories are told about this light, which, it is said, could be seen over the sea for a distance of thirty-four miles! Edrisi thus describes it:--"This pharos has not its like in the world for skill of construction and solidity. It is built of excellent stones, of the kind called Kedan, the layers of which are united by molten lead, and the joints are so adherent that the whole is indissoluble, though the waves of the sea from the north incessantly beat against it. This edifice is singularly remarkable, as much on account of its height as of its ma.s.siveness: it is of exceeding utility, because its fire burns night and day for the guidance of navigators, and is visible at the distance of a day's sail. During the night, it shines like a star: by day, you may distinguish its smoke."

There was a remarkable pharos built at Ostia by the Emperor Claudius, which was erected on an artificial breakwater. Then there was the light of Puteoli, which, in the far-away days of Rome, was of service to the seamen who were seeking to enter the port. Augustus, who provided the harbour of Ravenna, enriched it with a light. Charybdis and Scylla had also their warning beacon, and Caprera too lifted its light to save ancient vessels from destruction. There was also the Timian Tower, which was erected for navigators, but its design was frustrated by wreckers, who lighted other fires, in order to mislead the seamen, and lure them to ruin and death.

There was a very ancient and remarkable light at Boulogne. It was said to have been first built by the Emperor Caligula, in order to perpetuate the victories he meant to win. It became, however, of great service as a lighthouse-tower, and it is thought that, as early as the year A.D. 191, it flashed a friendly light across the sea. Time, however, and the repeated a.s.saults of foes, robbed it of its strength and glory. The men of Boulogne allowed it to perish, and then thought they were free of all obligation. The case, however, was tried in court, and they were sentenced either to restore it, or pay two thousand herrings, delivered fresh and dry every year. Very early, indeed, there was a light-tower in our own land, on the cliff at Dover, relics of which may even now be seen. It was built by the Romans, of very strong material, tufa, concrete, and red-tile brick. It was probably used as a lighthouse about the time of the Norman conquest, and is now devoted to purposes of government storage. The Colossus of Rhodes is said to have been used as a beacon, but there is no proof that it was so.

Englishmen are notorious for the facility they have of making money, and some enterprising men among our forefathers lighted beacons along the coast, and levied tolls upon those who benefited by their light; and James I. used to sell this privilege to his subjects. In the diary of Lord Grenville, is found this entry--"Mem. To watch the moment when the king is in a good temper to ask of him a lighthouse." This plan, however, was not very effective, and the public grew increasingly dissatisfied with it until, in the reign of William IV., the Corporation of Trinity House was empowered to buy up all lighthouses, take possession of all privileges, and have the entire control of the lighthouse system. There are between three and four hundred members of the Corporation, amongst whom are the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Edinburgh, who has the t.i.tle of Master, and Mr. W. E. Gladstone. The active committees are composed of retired captains. They have to give certificates to properly-qualified pilots, attend to sea-marks, to the ballast of the Thames ships, and many other things. There are two other Corporations besides that of Trinity House--namely, the Commission of Northern Lights, and the Board of Ballast of Dublin; and all these are under the control of the Board of Trade.

The total number of lights in England is 286, in Scotland 134, and in Ireland 93. So well is our coast lighted that it is said to be impossible to arrive near a dangerous point without seeing a warning lighthouse in some direction. They are of many different kinds and colours, some being placed on towers, some on sand-banks, some in ships out at sea, some on pier-heads, and in harbours. There are five princ.i.p.al lights, the "fixed," the "flashing," the "revolving," the "intermittent," and the "double lights," in one tower.

Two methods of lighting have been employed--the Catoptric and the Dioptric systems. The Catoptric lights are divided into nine cla.s.ses--the fixed, revolving white, revolving red and white, revolving red with two whites, revolving white with two reds, flashing, intermittent, double-fixed lights, and double-revolving white lights.

Colza oil is generally used, though the electric light, by its steady brilliance, is likely to supersede all others, when very great intensity is required.

Care has to be taken in the selection of the spot where the lighthouse shall be built, for in some cases they are rendered useless by the thick fogs that for the greater part of the year obscure their light.

Some mention may here be made of the most remarkable lighthouses on our coast; and only to mention the words, is to suggest EDDYSTONE. No one who has seen these dangerous rocks, could doubt that it is most necessary to have a light fixed to them, for many a n.o.ble vessel has been destroyed by running upon the perilous reef. No one, however, had the courage or the enterprise to undertake the task, until an eccentric gentleman of Littleberry, in Ess.e.x, generously came forward and offered to do it. The work of Henry Winstanley, and his end, have been so graphically and beautifully described by Jean Ingelow, that we take the liberty to transcribe part of her poem. It tells first how the loss of the "Snowdrop" troubled Winstanley:--

"'For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,'

Winstanley said, and sighed, 'For velvet coif or costly coat, They fathoms deep may bide.

"'O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind, O mariners bold and true; Sorry of heart, right sorry am I; A-thinking of yours and you.'"

The loss of the "Snowdrop" is followed by that of another ship, with contents, and then--

"'I will take horse,' Winstanley said, 'And see this deadly rock,

"'For never again shall barque o' mine Sail over the windy sea, Unless, by the blessing of G.o.d, for this Be found a remedy.'"

He went to the Mayor of Plymouth--

"'Lend me a lighter, good Master Mayor, And a score of shipwrights free, For I think to raise a lantern-tower On this rock o' destiny.'"

"The old Mayor laughed, but sighed also, 'Ah, youth,' quoth he, 'is rash; Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it out From the sea that doth it lash.'"

Brave Winstanley however, was resolved to try, and after tedious waiting, he commenced to work:--

"Then he and the sea began their strife, And worked with power and might, Whatever the men reared up by day, The sea broke down by night.

"In fine weather, and foul weather, The rock his arts did flout, Through the long days, and the short days, Till all that year ran out.

"With fine weather, and foul weather, Another year came in: 'To take his wage,' the workmen said, 'We almost count a sin!'"

They kept on, however, and at last, some sailors who returned told a wonderful tale of a house they had seen built in the sea:--

"Then sighed the folk, 'The Lord be praised!'

And they flocked to the sh.o.r.e amain; All over the Hoe, the livelong night, Many stood out in the rain.

"It ceased, and the red sun reared his head, And the rolling fog did flee; And lo! in the offing faint and far, Winstanley's house at sea!

"In fair weather, with mirth and cheer, The stately tower uprose; In foul weather, with hunger and cold, They were content to close;

"Till up the stair Winstanley went, To fire the wick afar; And Plymouth, in the silent night, Looked out and saw her star.

"Winstanley set his foot ash.o.r.e: Said he, 'My work is done; I hold it strong, to last as long As aught beneath the sun.