CHAPTER XIX

THE LITTLE WATCHER ON THE LONGSHIPS.

“And the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
That saved she might be ;

And she thought of Christ who stilled the wave
On the Lake of Galilee.

And ever the fitful gusts between

A sound came from the land;

It was the sound of the trampling surf
On the rocks and the hard sea sand."

-LONGFELLOW.

FOR Some time poor Mary sat in her chair before the fire, and gave way to her grief. Her poor father, what could have happened to him? Why had he not returned? These questions occupied her mind even more than her own lonely situation, for if she could only feel sure that no evil had befallen him, she thought she might endure a night alone in the lighthouse, dreadful as it would be.

Rousing herself she perceived how dark it had become; she heard, too, how the tempest was rising and what a fearful night was in store for her. With trembling hands she tried to make up the fire, and presently, as its cheerful blaze lighted the little room, her eyes fell on the great Family Bible. Ah! that was still left to her; could she not draw some comfort in her trouble from its sacred pages? Among the Methodists in those days was a well-meaning custom-which frequently, however, degenerated into superstition-of opening the Bible at random, putting the finger on the page, and reading the text on which it rested. This was supposed to give an answer to prayer, or to direct what course should be pursued in a matter of difficulty or perplexity. Mary had often seen her mother do this, and now she thought she would follow her example. She took down the Bible, and put it on the table, then praying God

to guide and direct her, she opened the holy volume at the Book of Psalms; her finger rested on the text, "What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee. In God I will praise His word, in God I have put my trust, I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.'

Here, indeed, was comfort! It seemed as if God Himself was speaking to her out of the sacred book. He was telling her not to fear; that He was at her side to protect her, lonely as she was, through that raging storm. The words

of another Psalm she knew by heart came with fresh consolation into her soul: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' And her father? Would not the same Saviour be with him too; could she not trust him into the loving Hands of Him Whose tender mercies are over all His works. She knelt down, and with her head resting on the well-worn open book, in simple childlike words she prayed to God, for His dear Son's sake, to watch over and protect her beloved father, and to bring him back to her at last in safety. And thus, not far off from each other, separated only by a narrow but impassable belt of raging sea, the hearts of father and daughter were as one, and their common prayers for each other's protection were mingled as they ascended to the ever-ready ear of Him Who never turneth away from the prayer of the poor, the needy, or the destitute.

When she rose from her knees she did not feel so frightened. She could trust God to protect her father, and watch over herself. The sun had set, it was getting dark, and already past the time when Owen was accustomed to light the lamps. She had heard him remark that morning how much shipping there was about, and that if squally weather came on in the evening, the warning light might save many vessels from destruction. And now a gale was blowing, and her father was not at his post. Here was a fresh misfortune, another cause for sorrow and regret. Then the thought struck her, could she light the lamps? She had often seen her father do it, but she knew the lamps were fixed very high up on the lantern, her father was a tall man and could easily reach them, but she was afraid she could not. She ran up to the lantern, rain and spray were both beating violently against the glass, the wind howling dismally, and the sea roaring louder than

ever.

She stood on tiptoe, and reached up her hand as high as possible, but the lamps were far far above her. she stood on a chair she thought she might just reach them. She ran down stairs and quickly returned with one, upon which she mounted, but still she must be several inches higher before her object could be attained. She now fetched a large tin basin, this turned bottom upwards she placed upon the chair. It would be all right now she thought she must be high enough to reach the lamps. But she had forgotten that she must be able to reach to the top of the wick-and for this, even the basin added to the chair did not sufficiently raise her. So now she fetched a pillow which she placed between the basin and the chair, but, alas! still the lamps were out of her reach, only a couple of inches more and she would succeed in her attempt.

She was a resolute little girl. The thought that on her exertions the lives of many depended, had made her for the time almost forget her own troubles, and nerved her to an energy beyond her years. She was determined that the lamps should be lighted. Nothing daunted by her want of success hitherto, she would persevere. How pleased her father would be when he knew that she had lighted the lamps, to find that she was able to perform his duty for him. How it would gladden his heart to see the light shedding its clear friendly rays over the wild rough sea, for by that he would know that she was safe and well, and that vessels were still being warned of the perils which awaited them on that dangerous coast.

Again she descended to the room below to look for some other articles to pile on the chair. She searched everywhere, but she could find nothing that would do. She began to despair. Because she could not raise herself a couple of inches higher it seemed as if the lamps would not be lit, and many brave men be doomed to a watery grave. Then her eye fell on the large Family Bible which still lay open on the table. She closed it. Ah! that, she said to herself, would make her just high enough. With it she could dispense with the pillow. But to stand upon the Bible! She could never do that. Her mother had always taught her to treat the sacred volume with extreme reverence. It was scrupulously dusted twice a day. No article, not even another book, was ever allowed to be placed upon it; to stand on it,

"The Bible was placed on the chair, and over it the basin, upon which Mary