use remind them
all that the storm still rages without.

Finally the great gale ends, and gradually the sea goes down. The
shipwrecked seamen are anxious to reach land, and the light-house
keeper, upon whose stores two extra mouths make serious inroads, is
willing to have them go. Late in the afternoon of the third day they see
smoke on the horizon. By-and-by the smoke appears to rise from a little
black speck. Gradually the speck grows larger, and at length it assumes
the outlines of a small steam-vessel.

"That's her," says the keeper. "Now you'll be able to get ashore."

"Is it the tender?" asks one of the wrecked sailors.

"Yes," says the keeper. "She was due here just about the time the gale
set in."

[Illustration: RECEIVING SUPPLIES IN CALM WEATHER.]

It is the stanch little light-house tender, whose duty it is to visit
the various lights in her district, and replenish their supplies. Many a
rough time she has at sea, and many a narrow escape; but the pressing
necessities of the keepers of the isolated lights embolden the captains
of tenders to brave many dangers. The tender is alongside the
light-house in due time, and the tackle which so lately saved human
lives hoists up boxes of provisions, cans of oil, and other articles.
The two shipwrecked sailors are put aboard the tender to be landed at
the nearest port, and in a short time the little vessel is once more a
smudge of smoke upon the horizon.

And so let us bid good-by to the light-house and the keeper. We know now
that he is a brave and faithful fellow, who, if need be, will lower away
his little boat, and pull to the rescue of those in danger. We know that
in spring and in summer, in autumn and in winter, in calm or storm, in
clear weather or in fog, in health or in sickness, he will be found
always at his post, always at his duty. We know that when the skies are
clear, and the sea smooth, and the stars bright, the lamp will burn and
send its gentle yellow rays out upon the inky waters to guide the
mariner over the trackless sea. We know that when the gray curtain of
the fog hides the light, the hoarse scream of the steam-siren or brazen
clang of the fog-bell will echo over the water, and warn the sailor
against hidden dangers. For always and everywhere the light-house keeper
is a brave, honest, faithful man; humble, indeed, but the reliance and
the guide of "those who go down to the sea in ships."

[Illustration: THE CAMERA CLUB]

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