rocks where it had been broken, and make no effort to help them. She
knew they must be lost. So she implored her father to launch the
life-boat and let her go with him to the rescue. He consented, and
father and daughter, she taking the oars while he steered, went
pulling away for the wreck; and I can fancy how the poor fellows
watched the life-boat like a speck on the waters, counting each minute
as it neared them, then fearing, as it seemed to be almost lost amid
the mountains of hissing and boiling waves, lest it should never come
to them at all. But at last they are alongside; the sufferers hesitate
not a moment, but jump for the life-boat, and so nine precious lives
were saved from a watery grave.
Every one sang the praises of brave Grace Darling. A sum of $3,500 was
presented to her as a testimonial, and she was invited to dine with
the Duke of Northumberland. She died at the early age of twenty-seven,
of consumption.
Now, my readers cannot all be Grace Darling, but they can come to the
help of the perishing; those that are weary and ready to die. They can
all do something, by working, by little efforts of self-denial, and by
praying for those who are in danger of being lost; and then one day
they will hear those wonderful words, "Inasmuch as ye have done it
unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me." A testimonial worth
having indeed!
ADAM AND EVE.
Adam and Eve are my two pet doves,
They live in a cot in the maple tree,
They coo and coo as other doves do,
And I know they are fond of me.
Eve is a dear little milk-white dove,
Her eyes and feet are of coral red.
She wears a quill of gray in her wing,
And a small white cap on her head.
Adam is bold, and he struts about,
In coat and vest of chocolate brown;
Eve is as sweet as a dove can be,
And Adam will sometimes frown.
Adam and Eve are my two fond doves,
Their cottage stands in the maple tree,
They coo and coo, as other doves do,
And often take lunch with me.
MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.
SWINGING SONG.
Swinging! Swinging!
Up where the bees and the butterflies are,
Winging! Winging!
Their flights 'mong the blossoms that shine near and far.
Ringing, Ringing,
Song of the blue-bird and bobolink's call,
Singing, Singing,
Up in this beautiful world are they all!
|