ing and kissing his wife as he put on
his hat; "and you may depend on it that I'll not miss dancing at our
Tommy's wedding, if I can help it."

That night saw John Potter at his old post again--snuffing the candles
on the Eddystone, and chatting with his old mate Dorkin beside the
kitchen fire. One evening towards the end of October, John Potter and
Isaac, having "lighted up," sat down to a game of draughts. It was
blowing hard outside, and heavy breakers were bursting on the rock and
sending thin spray as high as the lantern, but all was peace and comfort
inside; even Isaac's grumpy spirit was calmer than usual.

"You seem dull to-night, mate," observed John, as they re-arranged the
pieces for another game.

"I don't feel very well," said Dorkin, passing his hand over his brow
languidly.

"You'd better turn in, then; an' I'll take half of your watch as well as
my own."

"Thank 'ee kindly," said Dorkin in a subdued voice: "I'll take yer
advice. Perhaps," he added slowly, "you'll read me a bit out o' _the
Book_."

This was the first time that Isaac had expressed a desire to touch on
religious subjects, or to hear the Bible read; and John, you may be
sure, was only too glad to comply. After his mate had lain down, he
read a small portion; but, observing that he seemed very restless, he
closed the Bible and contented himself with quoting the following words
of our Lord Jesus: "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest;" and, "The blood of Jesus Christ God's
Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Then in a sentence or two he prayed
fervently that the Holy Spirit might apply these words.

John had a suspicion that his mate was on the verge of a serious
illness, and he was not wrong. Next day, Dorkin was stricken with a
raging fever, and John Potter had not only to nurse him day and night,
but to give constant attention to the lantern as well. Fortunately, the
day after that the relief boat would be out, so he consoled himself with
that thought; but the gale, which had been blowing for some days,
increased that night until it blew a perfect hurricane. The sea round
the Eddystone became a tremendous whirlpool of foam, and all hope of
communication with the shore was cut off. Of course the unfortunate
lighthouse-keeper hung out a signal of distress, although he knew full
well that it could not be replied to.

Meanwhile a wedding party assembled in Plymouth. The bride was bloomi