s any fish-wife for their safety. At her
own expense she provided a lifeboat and complete apparatus for saving
life, and, with the thoroughness characteristic of her, she made
herself at once acquainted with the proper working of it.

Whenever there was a shipwreck, she would be down on the shore giving
directions for the rescue of the people aboard the vessel. No matter
the weather or the hour, she was always on the spot. Many a time the
news came to her in the middle of the night that there was a ship in
distress, and in a few minutes her man was wheeling her quickly down to
the shore. The wind might be howling, the rain falling in torrents,
but this did not deter her from being at her self-appointed post. When
she first came out in rough weather, the fishermen begged her to return
home, but they soon discovered that she was determined to remain.

When the boat had been launched she would remain in the cold, waiting
anxiously for its return. Often she was in great pain, but only her
attendant was aware of this. To the fisher-folk she would be cheerful,
and express confidence that her lifeboat would rescue all aboard the
ship. And when the lifeboat did return with the rescued people, who
were sometimes half dead from exposure, there was more self-imposed
work for her. She superintended the treatment of the shipwrecked folk,
and arranged where they were to be taken. Many were removed to her own
house, and kept there until they were able to proceed to their homes or
to London. So kindly were the rescued people treated, that it became a
saying along the East Coast, that to be taken care of by Miss Gurney,
it was worth while being shipwrecked.

Anna Gurney died at Cromer in June, 1857, aged sixty-one. She was
buried in Overstrand Churchyard, being carried to her last
resting-place by fishermen who had known and loved her for many years.
The news of her death had spread rapidly along the coast, and over a
thousand fishermen were present at her funeral. Their sorrow was
great, and they were not ashamed to show it.

The following lines, written by Anna Gurney on the death of a friend
whom she dearly loved, might truly have been her own epitaph;--

Within this frame, by Jesu's grace,
High gifts and holy held their place;
A noble heart, a mighty mind,
Were here in bonds of clay confined.

GRIZEL HUME, THE DEVOTED DAUGHTER

There was rejoicing at Redbraes Castle, Berwickshire, in February,
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