g on the sand; you are indeed, and it won't
stand the storm; no, it won't stand the storm!' He had no time to say
more, the sailor hastened him away.

I followed them down to the pier, and stood there watching the steamer
preparing to start.

There was a little delay after the gentlemen went on board, and I saw
Mr. Davis sit down on a seat on deck, take out his pocket-book, and
write something on one of the leaves. Then he tore the leaf out, and
gave it to one of the sailors to hand to me as I stood on the pier, and
in another moment the steamer had started.

CHAPTER VII.

A THICK FOG.

That little piece of paper which was given me that day, I have it still,
put by amongst my greatest treasures. There was not much written on it,
only two lines of a hymn:

'On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand.'

I walked slowly up to the house thinking. My grandfather was out with
Jem Millar, so I did not show him the paper then, but I read the lines
many times over as I was playing with little Timpey, and I wondered very
much what they meant.

In the evening, my grandfather and Jem Millar generally sat together
over the fire in the little watchroom upstairs, and I used to take
little Timpey up there, until it was time for her to go to bed. She
liked climbing up the stone steps in the lighthouse tower. She used to
call out, 'Up! up! up!' as she went along, until she reached the top
step, and then she would run into the watchroom with a merry laugh.

As we went in this evening, my grandfather and Jem were talking together
of the visit of the two gentlemen 'I can't think what the old man meant
about the rock,' my grandfather was saying. 'I couldn't make head or
tail of it, Jem; could you, my lad?'

'Look there, grandfather,' I said, as I handed him the little piece of
paper, and told him how I had got it.

'Well, to be sure!' said my grandfather 'So he gave you this, did he?'
and he read aloud:

'On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand.'

'Well now, Jem, what does he mean? He kept on saying to me, "You're on
the sand, my friend; you're on the sand, and it won't stand the storm!"
What do you make of it, Jem? did you hear him, my lad?'

'Yes,' said Jem thoughtfully; 'and it has set me thinking, Sandy; I know
what he meant well enough.'

'And pray what may that be?'

'He meant we can't get to heaven except we come to Christ; we can't
get no ot